Of All the Girls in the World
by Melika Elena
Summary: A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse. Let the fairytale begin. COMPLETE!
1. Prologue

_The setting of this story is in a universe similar to ours, with similar places and (some) prominent figures in history (Think _Piratica_by Tanith Lee_)._ However, this story, in no way, shape, or form, will resemble any true events that may have taken place. There is no specific time period for this story: but if you must, think of a medieval government (with many kings, queens, etc, no democracies) with 18th century mannerisms and etiquette. _

_With that said: Once Upon a Time... _

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**Prologue**

It began when the world was still young and fresh, unburdened by modern evils and problems. Although people were starting to understand the world around them, a blanket of ignorance and superstition still fell across its inhabitants. Many people craved security and answers, putting all of their faith into their leaders. Those mortal kings ruled the lands with absolute, divine power. However, if they overstepped their limits in any way, the Magic folk above them did whatever was necessary to protect the fragile earth and its people.

One dynasty, however, disregarded their people's needs and the warnings of a powerful Enchantress, one of Light and Life. The rich, powerful family knew no wants but their own, with selfish thoughts running through their minds and royal blood coursing through their veins. When they paid no heed to the Enchantress, the consequences were dire.

"_When you unleash your wrath, the people will see how ugly you truly are, inside and out." _

The transformation of the family was immediate. Their vanity stripped and their sense of normalcy destroyed, the monarchs dedicated their lives to serving their people and bettering their kingdom. However, the damage had already been done and undoing their curse proved to be the ultimate challenge. Although there was always hope, the cure that could not quite be fulfilled drained the future generations of that hope bit by bit until none was left...

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There was no other choice. People were dying, council members demanding it. He told his people of possible consequences, of debt, of being taken over… of losing _everything_. No one paid him any heed, saying that if _he _refused to take action against the cruel king hell-bent on conquering them, they would just find someone who _would. _

Heaven forbid it was the goddamn _king _they were talking to.

King Cesario of Italle, forlorn and weary, swallowed his pride. In an act of pure desperation, he turned to his life-long friend of the neighboring country Fraanc, King Maxwil, for guidance. Although his councillors told him it was dangerous to leave the protection of the castle, Cesario insisted that he meet with his friend face-to-face, riding for many days in order to reach the secluded Freench castle in the forest of Pareis.

Riding up to the castle, Cesario could not help feel a sinking in his stomach. He had never liked this castle, for although it was in a beautiful setting, the dark, cold stone and large wooden doors always seemed so forbidding... or perhaps, foreboding?

Once Cesario had a servant fetch the king, he could not help but feel that perhaps things would work out after all. King Maxwil, surprised to see him, nevertheless bid his friend to enter and stay with him.

"What is troubling you, my friend?" Maxwil asked as the two sat down, a hot drink in their hands. Maxwil knew that something must be horrendously wrong for Cesario to come to him in person instead of merely sending a letter.

Cesario told him of the destruction that was plaguing the lands. "The Rushhans are slaughtering cities and villages all across Europe," Cesario explained to the reigning monarch of Fraanc. "They seem hell-bent on taking it over. They have already succeeded in conquering eastern Europe, including our bordering neighbors of Greese. I fear that we are next; they have already attacked some of our northern towns and cities. Eyerlin, Scoughtlyn, and Spainn have troops in training, but I would greatly appreciate your men. Freench weapon technology is superb in comparison to ours."

Maxwil noticed the multiple lines across his friend's face and the bleak look of his eyes. Maxwil knew of the Rushhans. He had hoped it would not come to this; he had not wanted to be dragged into such a war, originally, but now he knew that it would be better to act sooner than later. "I will help you out, my friend, in any way I can," he told Cesario without hesitation. "Enemies of my friends are my enemies as well."

Cesario allowed a small smile to flit across his face. So relieved was he that carelessly he asked, "How can I ever repay you, my friend?"

At that moment, the two men heard a crash. A vase had toppled over from its pedestal, sending chards of pottery and glass flying. Cesario was startled to see that immediately, without seeing him, Maxwil knew exactly who the culprit was.

"Derek," he growled. "Why are you not in bed?"

A little boy, only a few years older than Cesario's eldest daughter, peeked out from behind the pedestal. His dark hair was unruly, and his dimpled grin mischievous and shy. "Hello," he said to Cesario, ignoring his father and giving a little bow. "I am Prince Derek," he announced proudly.

Cesario chuckled. "I am King Cesario," he told him with a small bow in return. "Have you been eavesdropping, young man?"

"Only a little," Derek admitted without shame. He looked up at his father, his dark eyes wide and innocent. "I know it was wrong of me," he said matter-of-factly. "I am sorry. I was going to the kitchens for some milk and I overheard you talking. I just wanted to know who you were talking to."

Maxwil's face was stoic, although his eyes sparkled at his only child. "Very well," he boomed. "Now that you know, you may go to bed now."

Derek sighed. "All right," he said. Giving another little bow, he left the room, pausing at the door to give a small wave before he left.

Cesario chuckled, turning back to his friend. "He's a handful," Cesario said. "Very precocious."

"That is true," Maxwil said with a roll of his eyes.

"Now," Cesario said, "what was I saying? Oh. Yes. I am quite indebted to you, my old friend. I must repay you somehow."

Maxwil's eyes turned to the broken vase, and a wolfish grin stretched across his face. It was at times like these that Cesario felt that his friend was not quite human. Both men could feel the tension of Magic brewing in the air. With Cesario's words came an old, unwritten spell. A bonding spell. "We'll think of something," was all Maxwil said. "I will help you any way I can. I have a child to think of as well. Yes, it is my duty as ruler and as friend to help you."

In his joy, Cesariopromised, "Once this war is over, anything you want, it shall be yours." The two shook on the agreement, and the jolt that ran through both their arms signified that the spell had been complete; Cesario was now in debt to Maxwil.

Unfortunately, Magic could not help either man see the devastating effects of their actions. Although the war lasted a miserable half a decade, the two friends refused to back down from their cruel and greedy adversary. In the end their hard work did pay off, for they won.

But although they were victorious, the consequences were fatal: one king gave his entire treasury, the other gave his life.

What they did not realize however, was that in reality, they only won a large battle. The war had not yet ended, and would not do so for a very long time...

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Ten years later found the twelve councilmen of Fraanc wary and exhausted. Sitting at a round table, as old and sturdy as the kingdom itself, the twelve middle-aged men were faced with a problem. This particular problem was one that concerned their ruler most specifically; however, they felt the need to have a meeting in secret. The little room they met in was one that had been used for decades; a well-kept secret only they knew of. It was created just in case of a weak ruler and there may be plans to… overthrow them. However, the current line was full of strong and capable men, so the room had hardly been touched. Until now.

A certain councilman, whose name is unimportant, stared out the small window and wondered why he was stuck here when he could be with his family. The sky was a robin's egg blue with a gentle breeze as its companion and it felt unfair that the gorgeous day was polluted with talk about the royal family. It _was _his day off, after all. Inwardly sighing, he turned his attention to the current speaker.

"His twenty-first birthday is within the next year," one argued. "He needs to find a bride. Now."

"Thank you for stating the obvious, Edmund," one of his peers dryly remarked. "I think it is the general consensus that His Highness needs a suitable wife. The question is, how to go about doing it without angering him?" The twelve men around the table shuddered at the thought of their ruler's temper.

"A ball?" Suggested one man. "It worked in Inglin, did it not?"

"And look what happened there," snorted another. "Charles and his wife can barely look at each other, they are such strangers. We need someone that His Highness will actually _like_. There is enough squabbling without our rulers adding their own petty marital problems to it."

The others mumbled their agreement.

"How about," one, named Gregory, said, "we bring ten princesses to court that we think may be suitable to Our Highness's tastes? They will spend roughly nine months here, and the prince will hopefully fall for one while getting to know them. It is perfect."

"But will he agree to it?" Shot back Edmund. "You know how the Prince is about women. He thinks they're weak and pitiful—he has no use for them."

Another councilman, Franklin, chortled. "And other countries have trouble getting their prince to stop having so many liaisons with women. Yet we have the opposite problem."

"The boy needs to lighten up," agreed Gregory. "He is not the same child we once knew."

"You know he has not been the same since King Maxwil died," Franklin reminded him quietly.

"Hopefully these beautiful young women will help his temperament then," Gregory declared. "But will he listen to us?"

"He has to listen to us, though," Edmund stated. "He knows the consequences about not getting married."

"And to the right girl," pointed out Franklin.

The twelve men sighed in unison. It was like dealing with Patrik or Rey or Maxwil (bless their souls) all over again. All of the former monarchs were stubborn, with vicious tongues and tempers, although they desperately tried to keep them under control.

Well. Except Derek.

A few moments later, the dignified and reasonable councilmen were cowering under the steady gaze of their future ruler.

"No." It was one word, but laced in the tones was ice, frigid and deadly. Black brows were drawn together and the dark eyes beneath them narrowed in annoyance. Tense in his chair, Prince Derek of Fraanc ignored his mother's pleading stare and focused on the twelve cowering men before him.

"But Your Highness," tried Edmund foolishly. "You know the consequences…"

"I know the damn consequences," snarled Derek. "But I don't care. I know that I shall fail, just as my father and his father and his father…. What is the use? It is better just to accept my fate than get my hopes up."

Franklin licked his lips quickly and boldly said, "At least your forefathers tried, Prince. You know how your father would disapprove of your taking the… cowardly way out."

Derek was up out of his chair faster than Franklin could blink. "I am not a coward," he seethed.

"Then prove it," Franklin said, unfazed. "Let the girls come here and see if any of them catches your fancy. If not, then we will not force you in matrimony."

"Derek…" pleaded his mother. "At least think about it. You cannot officially become king without a spouse. You might be so lonely without a companion… and I dearly miss having children around the palace…"

He turned to her, his eyes softening at the sight of his poor, dear mother. "If it's all the same to you, Mother," he told her with a soft growl in his hoarse voice, "I never want my children to have to suffer like I have. I want this to end with me. And if it doesn't… then I shall never have children at all."

Turning, Derek stalked out of the room, leaving the council to their own devices.

Once the doors were slammed, Franklin turned to his peers, a triumphant smile gracing his lips. "I say it's time we make a list of everything we'll need, gentlemen," he said. "There's no time to waste."

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Last edited: 8/9/10 - 0_0


	2. Chapter One

**Summary: **A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

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**Chapter One**

The girls were chosen purely by title and temper. For example, Princess Heidi of Germaine was chosen because she was not only beautiful and accomplished, but delicate and ladylike, or so the rumors went. However, her sister Princess Alaine was not chosen because she was heard to have a horrible temper and heaven knew they didn't need _that _to contend with.

The Countess Keleigh had been married for a year before her husband was killed by the plague. A young and simpering maiden, she too was chosen, along with her four cousins, the Ladies Florinda, Belinda, Lucinda, and Melinda.

Added to the list were a princess from Eyerlin, another from Scoughtlyn and yet another from Spainne. It seemed as if there were enough ladies, but Franklin had only nine and would have preferred an even ten. That meant that there was only one more candidate for find...

"What about Princess Cecilia?" Suggested Franklin.

"Her Highness," Edmund wrinkled his nose, "is an old maid."

"An old maid?" Scoffed Gregory. "She is not even eighteen!"

"Fine," gritted out another councilman, Alec, "she is not that old. But still... I think it would be a bad idea."

"Oh honestly," huffed Franklin. "From what I hear, the girl is supposed to be a very accomplished young lady. She is not only multi-lingual, but has impeccable equestrian skills. She has also, from what I heard, dabbled in archery and combat skills. A perfect diplomat and skilled debater..." He trailed off at the looks he was getting. "What?" He wanted to know.

"She's very unconventional," Edmund said. "What kind of ruler would she be?"

"An effective one," shot back Gregory. "She could be a good influence on Derek! Besides, she is rumored to be quite pretty."

"We don't want pretty, we want beautiful," Alec put in. "Fraanc is known for its beautiful women. And we certainly don't want to soil our reputation."

"You're all fools," sneered Franklin. "What about Queen Marguerite? I think that it has been proven that she has brains and has done the country well. What is wrong with having an intelligent woman?"

"Nothing," one man protested. "Besides, Her Majesty grew into her role as a leader. When she first arrived, she was very quiet and polite and beautiful."

Franklin scowled. "Of course she was quiet," he snapped. "She was terrified out of her mind! And besides, looks? Where have looks gotten us? Four generations and still no progress! She could be The One. I vote she is invited if not for Derek, but for the people."

"Same as I," said Gregory.

"And I," said another.

And another.

And another.

Before long, ten of the twelve men had voted for Princess Cecilia to be invited.

Finally, "Aye," was heard from Alec, who sighed. He looked at Edmund.

"I suppose there is no choice," Edmund said stiffly. But then he reminded them of one little factor, "Just good luck trying to convince her father."

King Cesario of Italle wasn't an irrational man. Hardship after hardship had taught him to be practical, resourceful, and reasonable. However, he had lost so much and what he still had he held dear to him, including his daughter, Cecilia.

Cecilia wasn't an only child, with a younger sister named Isobella, but she was still the heir to the throne and was treated and trained as such. From a very young age she had sat in on various meetings, traveled to foreign countries to address issues, educated in the needed languages and skills… her upbringing very much resembled that of a boy's.

This never bothered Cecilia much. She believed in equality of the sexes—though she was warned to keep this to herself—and did not care if people though her odd. There were times though, late at night, when she wondered why she couldn't be just like every other girl in the world. Why she couldn't be _normal._

However, Cecilia was trained as a young lady as well. She still learned how to dance and curtsey and act like a debutante like every other princess. She was aware, though, that her people thought ill of her upbringing due to the simple fact that she had not yet been married.

This, she concluded, was mainly her father's fault. Ever since her mother's death during the war, ever since the fact that they became quite poor due to the money needed for the said war, he treated her and her sister as if they were simple-minded children that should be looked after. Cecilia thought this absurd as he raised them both to be the exact opposite of such.

However, Cecilia did not mind being an old maid and childless. Isobella was bound to be married off one day and her children would become Cecilia's heirs. Besides, there was no one who caught Cecilia's eye. The world, from what she had seen, was mostly full of empty-headed, vain, selfish men who clearly thought women were made to serve them. Even if that was the general consensus of the world, Cecilia couldn't help but think—but hope—there had to be _someone _out there who didn't think that way.

And until she found that someone, she would not get married.

So far, it looked like she wouldn't be finding that someone anytime soon. And with the exception of bouts of loneliness, Cecilia had accepted a life of solitude. As a princess, she had no right to hope for a fairy tale ending.

There was a knock on her door, and her maid, Emilia, came in. "You have a letter, Your Highness," she curtsied and handed Cecilia the letter. Cecilia blinked. It was sent directly to herself, instead of her father, which Cecilia found intriguing. She hardly ever received anything for herself.

After dismissing the maid, Cecilia cut open and unraveled the parchment. It read:

_To Her Royal Highness Princess Cecilia of Italle: _

_By official decree of Her Royal Majesty Queen Marguerite of Fraanc, you have been invited to spend a year in her court as one of her special guests. You, among other princesses, are candidates to become her son, His Royal Highness Prince Derek's bride and queen. _

_It is strongly suggested that you accept. Even if you are not chosen by Prince Derek as his queen, you have the undying gratitude of the country of Fraanc and our everlasting alliance. _

_If you do accept, please journey of Pareis, capital of Fraanc, by the twenty-second of June. However, if not, please send your regrets as soon as you are able. _

_Thank you. _

_Her Royal Majesty Queen Marguerite of Fraanc _

Leaning back into her elegant little chair, Cecilia considered the offer. She hardly liked the fact that this letter made it sound as if she would have to _compete _with no-doubt catty and spoiled girls for the heart of a no-doubt charming and spoiled prince.

Straightening up and taking out a sheet of parchment, Cecilia prepared to pen her decline. But…

She leaned back into her chair. It had been a while since she was able to interact with people her own age. The war had prevented that… and she wondered how other girls her age acted. She could easily guess but she would never truly know…

Besides, what did she have to lose? Her father and the former king of Fraanc, Maxwil, were good friends before the war ended Maxwil's life. Nevertheless, it would be an opportune way to strengthen alliances with the future king. Perhaps she would make friends. There was no way that she would capture the heart of this Prince Derek anyway, that she knew for sure. But this was an opportunity that may never come around again.

Taking a deep breath, Cecilia knew her mind was made up.

She was going to Fraanc.

That is, if her father let her.

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Last edited: 8/9/10


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary: **A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

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**Chapter Two**

"Absolutely not," King Cesario said firmly. "It is out of the question." It was dinner in Cecilia's household and she had just informed her father of her plans. Isobella was excited at first, babbling on and on about how envious she was and what a great time Cecilia would have… that is, until Cesario regained his wits (he had been stunned when he first heard the news.) He was obviously not pleased about the turn of events.

Cecilia was more than annoyed. "Father, you have raised me to become a mature adult and for many years now I have conducted myself as such! It's time you started to give me credit and treat me like one."

"You've never been by yourself for an entire year!" Cesario shot back.

"Then I think it's time I try it," Cecilia said. "And besides, how would it look for you not to send your daughter to your late best friend's kingdom! People might think it was as if you did not trust the Freench."

"Cecilia, you and Isobella are all I have left," Cesario said wearily. "I don't want anything abominable to happen to you."

"I will never truly live if you don't let me," her eyes softened slightly. "And that means taking the good with the bad."

Cesario remained silent for a few moments and all was still at the dining table. Then, "I am going to pen your decline for you," Cesario said, abruptly turning away. "I will say you are needed too much here."

"But Father—" Cecilia cried in distress.

He wheeled back. "The discussion has been closed," he roared bluntly.

Cecilia fell silent, angry tears smarting at the corners of her eyes. She felt frustrated and helpless, two feelings she loathed.

Her father took no heed of her and, finishing and sealing the letter, gave it to a servant to have it mailed. Because of the exceptionally good weather the two countries had been having, the king of Italle's reply to the queen of Fraanc took a mere two weeks, instead of three.

Upon reading the former's reply, the latter pursed her lips together, disturbed, though calm. The stately woman was full of grace and dignity above all. Sensible and wise, Marguerite went with the general flow of things; she was a supreme adapter who flourished wherever she went. It was in this way that she became accustomed to her volatile husband. Gradually she learned to love him and he for her, and that was more than she could ask for. After his demise, the light of her life was her only son, Derek, and she had great plans for him.

Sighing, Marguerite put the letter down. Of all the girls, she had hoped that Cecilia would come. After all, she had been good friends with Dominique, Cecilia's mother. She and Dominique had liked to daydream together and hoped that their eldest children would marry. Now, with Cesario's refusal, that may never happen.

Cesario, in Marguerite's opinion, was a good man, though sometimes foolishly paranoid. He had lost much that was true, and was sensible in valuing what he had left. Yet, he went to such unreasonable extremes to protect his girls that Marguerite feared that he may suffocate them. And the letter she held in her hand was proof.

Cecilia must come at all costs, decided Marguerite. If not for herself or Derek, then merely for Cecilia's sake. That girl needed to experience life before it vanished. Cesario of all people should know that, she thought sadly.

But how to do it? There was The Gift; the binding words Cesario said to Maxwil. When her late husband promised to help with the war between Italle and Rushha, Cesario had said, "Once this war is over, anything you want and it shall be yours." These were dangerous words, but Cesario and Maxwil had trusted each other. Now that Maxwil was dead, Cesario was bound to Maxwil's heir, Derek.

But how to get Derek to agree to take advantage of Cesario's words? It was time to put her skills to use, thought Marguerite.

Seeing his tall figure grace the doorway, Marguerite smiled and put her plan into action. "Derek," she called.

Although he could beharsh, aloof, andproud, Derek was always respectful towards his mother. His dark eyes softening, he went towards her. "Yes, Mother?"

"Here is a letter, from King Cesario of Italle," his mother handed him the letter. He read over, it, frowning slightly. Ending it, he shrugged.

"That's too bad, I suppose. Ah, well… one less exasperating female running around the palace."

Inwardly, Marguerite smirked. She knew he'd say that. "It's not just that," she sighed dramatically. "It's just… goodness, how will this make us look? That a king turned us down… as if we're not good enough for his daughter."

Derek scowled. "I never thought of that," he gritted out.

Of course you didn't, Marguerite wanted to say, but held her tongue. "I know that's not the case with Cesario… you know how paranoid he has become with his daughters. But still… what will everyone else think?"

"How dare he do this to us!" Derek slammed his fist down on a nearby table, causing it to tremble.

"Of course…" Marguerite proceeded to pretend to ponder. "It _is _just an 'exasperating' girl, right? I suppose I shouldn't worry."

"Nonsense!" Growled Derek. "It's the principle of the matter… and besides, after all Father has done for him… We deserve this!"

Marguerite nodded her head. "That is true. Perhaps we can write Cesario and remind him of this…?"

"Yes," Derek started to breathe heavily, a sign that he was agitated. "That is exactly what I shall do."

He proceeded to storm out of the room.

"Remember to be polite, dear!" His mother called after him. In reply she got a slamming of doors.

Leaning back into her chair, Marguerite's lips curled into a smirk. Behind every great man... was an even greater woman.

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Cesario folded his head within his arms. He never expected it to be like this. That Maxwil's son would write him, demanding he send his daughter. What a fiery temper! This is what Cecilia would have to live with for a year?

What had he done? If only he had gotten a hold of that letter before Cecilia had seen it, they could just pretend that they had never gotten it! Of course, Derek might have mailed that letter anyway.

Cesario scowled. Foolish boy. Who did he think he was? He wasn't king yet… what was Marguerite thinking! She raised Derek better than that. It was despicable, it was humiliation, it was…

Well. There was nothing he could do now. To start a war over would be entirely irrational and stupid. Obviously the pig-headed boy wouldn't take to a discussion.

Sighing, Cesario knew that the only thing he could do was have Cecilia go.

Back in her chambers, Cecilia was trying to convince herself that it was better she not go to Fraanc. It would only cause trouble back home anyway. Who would take care of the villagers? It had been her job to walk amongst them and learn of their problems. Who would make sure her father ate every night? He was prone to skipping dinner; whether it was because he had too much to do or it pained him to see the empty chair across from him, where his late wife had once reigned, she pretended not to know. Who would be a mentor to Isobella? The girl was just starting to become a woman—and good lord knows _that _is difficult.

Yes, it would be better for everyone if she stayed there. What had she been thinking, anyway, wanting to do something so selfish? No, it was better if she didn't go. Besides, it would've been a waste of time… the prince wouldn't have picked _her_. Not that she _wanted _him to, but still…

A knock on the door startled her out of her pondering.

"Cecilia?" Freezing, the said person looked to the door slowly. It was her father. "We need to talk," he continued on.

Cecilia felt a pang of guilt. He sounded so tired… was it because of her?

Apparently he didn't expect an answer, for he kept talking, his voice heavy. "I have just… received a letter from Fraanc in regards to your—my—decline on your behalf."

She didn't want to hear anymore about Fraanc; she wanted to move on with her life. Cecilia waited for more.

"… And they… they won't take no for an answer. You'll be leaving tomorrow."

Not thinking, only acting, she leapt from her spot on her chair, efficiently knocking it over, and sprinted to the door. Yanking it open, she saw her father, his semblance worse off than she thought. Pale, with the only color the bags under his eyes, she turned her wide eyes to his. "They won't take no for an answer?"

"That's right," he said this reluctantly. "Derek, on behalf of his father, demanded you go."

"How can this be?" Stormed Cecilia. "Why can you not just refuse him?"

Cesario sighed. "It is not that simple," he told her. "At the start of the war, I went to Maxwil to form an alliance. I did not know if he would accept my offer, and when he did I was so elated that I promised him that upon the war's end, anything he needed, anything he wanted, I would provde for him. You know how pacts are magically binding. Now that Maxwil is dead, I am now magically bound to Derek. And this... this is what he wants. He is using our pact in order to have you."

Cecilia sat in stunned silent, but soon began to fume. How dare this prince treat her as if she were a bag of money! Clenching her fists, Cecilia narrowed her eyes. "If that's the way it is, then I don't want to go."

Sighing, Cesario said, "Cecilia, neither you nor I have a choice in the matter. Unless you would like another war—one that I would most definitely lose—you must go." Putting his hands on her shoulders, he gave her a smile of defeat. "If not for him, or for me, do it for your people."

Cecilia, remembering his harsh words from before, gave him a look of defiance. Her fiery eyes were hurt and resentful, wondering fiercely if that was all he thought of women as, objects to barter with.

A lone tear dripped down her father's cheek. "You know I only want what is best for you, do you not?" He whispered, referring to what he had said earlier.

Cecilia turned her eyes away from his. She did not want to admit it, but she understood her father. They were both prisoners, in a way. He was trapped in his insecurities and paranoia and she in her gender and its restrictions. And although she did not agree with her father's judgement at times, Cecilia never doubted his love for her. With that thought in her mind, Cecilia reluctantly whispered, "Yes. I know. And I will go to Fraanc. For you and Issy."

Silently apologizing, Cesario kissed her head and whispered, "I'm so proud of you."

Despite the circumstances, it was the first time since the war had ended that both felt as though things would turn out all right after all.

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Last edited: 8/9/10


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary: **A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

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**Chapter Three**

The journey would take a little less than three weeks, depending on the weather. The capital of Italle, Roame, was in the south and Cecilia would be traveling to Fraanc, primarily by boat. First she would go to the island of Cecily, the island that was named after her grandmother, who was her namesake. From Cecily, they would head straight to Fraanc.

Cecilia loved the ocean. Her younger sister Isobella got positively seasick and longed for land, but Cecilia and her father adored it. Pareis, Cecilia knew, was not near the coast at all, not like Roame.

"Do you have to go, Cecy?" Isobella struggled to sob out her sister's nickname. Her sister was an extremely influential part of her life and the only motherly figure.

"I'm afraid so," Cecilia took her sister's hands in her own. "But we have letters. I shall write you as often as I can, Issy, I promise."

"Promise?" Isobel looked at her with wide eyes, a tear of salty sorrow trailing down her cheek.

"Of course," Cecilia vowed. "Now make sure you keep up with your studies and mind your tutors. Take care of Maria, will you? You two shall both be lonely and must rely on each other for comfort." Maria was Cecilia's mare, whom Issy loved to ride with her sister.

Isobella solemnly nodded before hugging her sister fiercely.

Turning to her father, Cecilia gave him a hug. "Be strong," she whispered. "For Issy."

She felt her father nod and when they pulled back, she said, "I love you, Father. And I shall miss you both dearly."

As the ship left the port, her sister waved to her, her father's hand on her shoulder, until finally, Cecilia and the boat disappeared out of sight.

As soon as Italle was only a speck in the distance, Cecilia turned her attention to the ocean. The waves sloshed around, as if it was soup and the world its bowl. Except this soup was a deep sapphire, filled with fresh marine life. Grinning, Cecilia felt at peace. She loved to travel, especially after spending some years during the war under house arrest. Looking up, the sky was bright, a few clouds scattered here and there.

Wails and cries of seagulls sometimes invaded Cecilia's solitude, but she was too relaxed to care. At one point, dolphins traveled with them, and reveled in Cecilia's laughter and friendliness. She always had a fondness for the dolphins, so much like dogs and horses.

The scent of salt sharpened her senses and Cecilia prayed to the gods for good weather. If they had to send her to live with strangers for a year, she at least deserved that.

Strangers. Thinking of them, Cecilia took deep breaths. At first she had been excited, but with that prince's reaction to her father… she began to be worried. Of course he was not ruler yet, and his mother was a strong woman… but what kind of man was this? From what she gathered he was rude and possessive and altogether intimidating. Which was too bad, she thought. She remembered hearing stories from her father about the little Freench prince who had interrupted his talks with King Maxwil.

_"Not only had he failed to go to bed, but he snuck out to the kitchens, eavesdropped on private conversations, and broke a vase all in the span of a few minutes," Cesario re-told, his eyes laughing. _

_"He sounds rather naughty to me," a young Cecilia frowned. "Was he punished?"_

_Cesario smiled. "I don't think so," he said. "I could be wrong, of course. I rather liked the little lad. Reminded me of myself."_

To think, he was the same man who her father had spoken of so fondly. But now... well. It was evident he had changed. She wondered if the charming little boy he once was was still there.

Tilting her face towards the sun, ignoring the warmth it brought her, she closed her eyes and whispered, "What do you have in store for me?"

0 0 0

"They're coming, they're coming!" Maids and butlers fluttered about like mosquitoes and, Derek reflected dryly, they were just as annoying. It was the day when everyone was supposed to arrive and although Derek seriously considered feigning sick, he knew his mother wouldn't fall for it, even if her senses weren't as astute as his.

"I'm sure the snobby brats won't be impressed with the place anyway," he scoffed as put his two cents in. "Mentally, they'll be comparing it to their own home. And I bet that they'll be thinking once they marry me—for _of course _they will, how could they not, for they will be the most intriguing and beautiful woman here—they will take down that portrait of Great-Grandmother Georgette for you cannot have any remnants of women more beautiful than _them._" He shook his head in disgust and Marguerite was impressed to note that, concerning most aristocratic women, her son was most assuredly correct in his assumptions. But of course she didn't say _that. _One had to hope for better girls.

Aloud, she replied, "Darling, with that attitude, you have nothing to worry about. Those girls wouldn't marry you if their lives depended on it." This was a lie, but it caused the right effect: reluctantly, Derek wiped off his scowl and straightened up.

Patting his cheek, Marguerite smiled. "That's better, _ma chere_. Just think, perhaps you'll find someone you'll like after all."

Her back turned and Derek scowled again, feeling that familiar ache in his jaw whenever he was displeased. Find a girl he'd actually _like? _Highly unlikely. He didn't know why Mother and the Council insisted on this charade. Why could they not accept that he was destined to be alone? He had, after all.

A shriek took place somewhere to his right. "Someone has arrived!"

It was Princess Heidi of Germaine, blond-haired, blue-eyed. Her face was full of razor-sharp edges and her acid tongue was just as deadly. "Hurry up, you simpletons," she snapped to her servants, who brought her many luggage.

Laying perfunctory kisses upon Marguerite's cheeks, she bowed and said with a slight accent, "Your Majesty, I am so honored that you invited me. I am sure that I will have the most delightful time."

With an unimpressed glance at Derek, she reluctantly curtseyed, all the while gazing at the castle. _Inferior in every way_, she sniffed, both at the prince himself and the castle. Nonetheless, she said, "It's a pleasure."

"Likewise," Derek said stiffly, bowing low, trying to conceal his rolled eyes. He had seen her expression, knew that she was exactly the type of girl he was talking about earlier. He hoped that the others wouldn't be like her. If so, it was going to be a long day, he was sure. Or rather, it was going to be a long year.

After receiving no positive response, Heidi feigned exhaustion and was shown to her chambers, keeping company with her governess, who looked just as manipulative and conceited as her mistress.

The four sisters of a nearby duke arrived next. Florinda, Belinda, Melinda, and Lucinda. Derek was wondering how he'd ever keep their names straight, and then wondered if their mother was an adulteress or their father re-married several times. All four girls looked wildly different: a blonde, a brunette, a red-head and a girl with black hair. And each had different eyes: blue, brown, green, and hazel.

But all were wildly annoying. There was never a time where they were silent. One was always chatting, shrieking, squawking… whatever you wanted to call it. And all this ruckus was about their most perfect and gorgeous cousin, the Countess Keleigh, who had not yet shown.

Bored, Derek was more than relieved when they finally were asked to be shown to their chambers.

Luckily, the next three were much more pleasant. As Eyerlin and Scoughtlyn were geographically near each other, the two princesses came together. The princess from Eyerlin, Fiona, was a shy and timid young girl, with big green eyes and mousey brown hair.

Tessa, Scoughlyn's princess, was her exact opposite. She was tomboyish and strong, with her ruddy complexion, wild waves of amber and a loud voice. Despite their differences, the two girls seemed to be the best of friends. Tessa, he could tell, took an instant disliking to him. This he found amusing and was glad that he wouldn't have to bother with neither her nor Fiona, who looked at him as though he was some kind of dragon from Hell.

The princess from Spainne had the longest name he had ever heard. Ana Maria Angelina Francesca Rosalia Gabriella de San Juan. But, she said, call her Ana. She looked to be calm and collected, something Derek found he liked. Her doe-like dark eyes didn't hurt as well.

Despite this myriad of royalty, Derek knew that none of them were for him. His instincts didn't quite know what to look for when it came to his ideal woman, and he was treading on new ground—his forefathers all had radically imperfect marriages. He was on his own with this one, and was determined not to mess it up. However, things were already proving to be difficult.

But what his instincts _did _tell him was to be on the look-out, for appearances were deceiving, and someone was hiding something.

And it wasn't just him.

* * *

Last edited: 12/24/08


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary: **A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

0 0 0

**Chapter Four**

"Oh, drat!" Cursed Cecilia. "Stupid rain!" It was still early summer in Fraanc, so her escorts were hardly surprised at the sudden rainfall. However, it was the twenty-first of June and they had to make it to Pareis by the next day. And if the carriage got stuck in mud… well. It was a scenario that Cecilia hated to think of.

Luckily, it was still in the wee hours of the morning and so they would have an entire day to complete the journey. Hopefully the rain would let up soon. Hopefully.

Glancing out her carriage window, Cecilia surveyed Fraanc. It had a different sort of beauty than Italle, but it had a breathtaking quality of its own. Predominately, it was made up of mossy hills and snow-tipped mountains, but the southern coast that bordered the Mediterra Sea—the same sea Italle was located in—reminded her awfully of home with its sandy beaches and clear waters.

Trying to recall some of her lessons about the foreign land, Cecilia remembered that Fraanc was one of those countries with mostly mild temperatures all year round. Thank goodness. She remembered when she traveled to Greenlin with her father one year. It was terribly icy and frigid the entire time! She shivered just thinking about it.

Sighing, Cecilia tried to concentrate on the book she brought along, but the words seemed listless on the yellowed page. She had been travelling for roughly two and a half weeks and her body could feel it. Despite the roomy carriage, sleep was hard to come by. When it did come, the uncomfortable position she had to hold caused aches and pains. However, she succumbed to the urge to sleep as a sudden wave of exhaustion swept over her.

Moments, hours, days later—there was a soft rap on the carriage door. "Your Highness?" the tentative voice of an escort murmured. "We are here."

At one point in her life, Cecilia had been a sound sleeper. Among other things, the war had changed that. "Yes, yes," she sighed, sitting up immediately, taking another peek out the window. They were safely within the walls of Pareis, the capital, and she was amazed to discover that they were virtually in the middle of a huge, gorgeous forest. Huge oaks and pines and redwoods towered over the ferns and wildlife and Cecilia was surprised to see that there were, in fact, inhabitants besides the Fraanc monarchs. However, there weren't very many. But for whatever reason, the sight of smoke rising from the neat and cozy looking cottages warmed Cecilia's heart.

Once they were beyond the stern looking gates, Cecilia stepped out of her carriage and knocked on the humbling wooden doors that led to the inside of the castle, as was custom between nobility.

Cecilia did not know what to expect, but she knew that she definitely expect to see a rather uptight man with a spindly mustach and a plump frame. "You are Her Royal Highness Princess Cecilia of Italle, I presume?" He asked, bowing.

"I am not late, I hope?" she responded with a question, hoping that the sleepiness in her visage had faded.

"You have arrived just before tea," entered a deep voice that sent shocks up her spine. Whether this was a good thing or not, she hadn't decided. What she did know was that she did not care for the tone of the voice. It was cold and Cecilia could sense the distaste he held for her in his words.

Narrowing her eyes, Cecilia decided that this person didn't seem especially glad that she made the appointed date. "How… fortunate of me," she replied frostily. "And you are?"

With a smirk, Derek stepped out of the shadows. "I am your host, Prince Derek," he bowed smartly, but that smirk was still plastered onto his face. "You must be Princess Cecilia." He straightened and made a sweeping gesture with his hand. "Welcome."

Cecilia fought a scowl. So this was the insufferable pig that threatened her father. He was handsome, to be sure, with straight, strong shoulders and a confidence that one couldn't ignore. But what a conceited scoundrel! "You are too kind, Your Highness," she snipped, her tone implying anything but.

If it was possible, the smug expression on his face deepened as he considered his next words. "I am as kind as your father is reckless," he responded.

Inwardly, she took a deep breath to calm her raging temper. Fine. If he wanted to word play with riddles, then let the games begin. "Yes," she agreed, a saccharine tone to her voice, "I concur. You are exactly as how I imagined you to be, Crown Prince." She smiled sweetly.

She was pleased to note that her subtle snub did not go unnoticed, like it did with other nobility. Derek knew _exactly _what she was implying. And he didn't like it. "I must say that you are exactly as I pictured you as well," he answered smoothly, no evident anger in his voice… but were his teeth just a _tad bit _sharper? "Your… _charms_ are quite evident."

"As are yours," shot back Cecilia. If it weren't for their good manners, Cecilia would have guessed that they would be circling 'round each other like animals, waiting to pounce and fight.

The portly man who opened the door looked fearfully back and forth between the two. Oh dear. What should he do? Send for Her Majesty? Oh, _where_ was she?

Luckily, the poor man was relieved, for Queen Marguerite appeared, out of nowhere it seemed. After shooting a glare at her son, she turned her attentions to her guest. "Cecilia," instead of the perfunctory kisses that she gave the other girls, Marguerite swept the girl in a hug. "Oh, darling, how good to see you! How much you have grown…" And, with a smile, "You look just like Dominique."

With a pleased flush, Cecilia curtseyed. "Thank you for inviting me to stay with you," she told the queen graciously. "I haven't traveled in so long."

"Well, then, I'm glad I could help! It really was all Derek's doing," she motioned to her son, who stood sulking a few feet off. "You've met my son Derek, have you not?"

"I have," admitted Cecilia, gritting her teeth. Marguerite did not miss the looks going between the pair, but, ever the hostess, ignored it.

"Wonderful!" Gushed Marguerite. "I'll have Priscilla show you to your rooms—Priscilla!" A middle-aged servant with rosy cheeks and ginger curls appeared. "Do show Princess Cecilia to her rooms, won't you please?"

"Of course, Your Majesty," Priscilla curtseyed. With a friendly smile, she said, "Right this way, Your Highness."

"Thank you again," called Cecilia to Marguerite as she followed Priscilla. With a smirk of her own, Cecilia was very well aware that she had completely ignored Derek. And she didn't care.

0 0 0

Once she was out of sight, his mother turned to her son as if he were prey. "Well?" She demanded. "What did you think of her?"

With a cold sneer, Derek turned on his heel, his cape fluttering majestically behind him. He called, "She's just like the others." The last thing he heard before the doors slammed was his mother's sigh.

Stalking down the halls, Derek tried to keep his temper in check. He could feel his nails; they were itching to tear something… No, this wasn't good at all. And it was all because of that damned girl.

When he first heard the butler announce her presence, for once he wanted to make himself known. He wanted her to know the man who brought her here, who had the control over her father. It seemed as if the alpha in him dominated his common sense... athough, it _was _rather bastardly of him, but Derek didn't careWhat he hadn't prepared for was the fact that she was a spitfire. He had never anticipated that she would match him, jab for jab, word for word. Derek wasn't sure what to think of that.

Oh, he knew of her upbringing. Of her archery, and her fencing, and riding. Apparently she excelled with linguistics and knew six languages. Rumor had it she was a skilled debater who loved to read as much as any man.

Derek supposed he was lying when he told her she was exactly how he had imagined her. To him, she would either be a big, masculine brute of a girl or a beautiful, albeit meek one who did what everyone told her. The type who had to have every word whispered in her ear by a councilman before she said it aloud herself.

Instead he got a stubborn, insolent girl who really wasn't all that bad-looking at all.

Angrily, Derek pushed the thought out of his head. What she looked like was irrelevant. The fact of the matter was she was too smart for her own good and that was that.

As he smashed a vase, he felt instantly better. Breaking things was cathartic to his beastly soul. Closing his eyes, he slid to the ground.

To him, women were placed into three categories: the relenting, delicate ones who couldn't lift a finger and would die without their maids or the hulking, ugly, wild women or worse, the simpering, conniving, whorish girls. And now, faced with this girl who fit into neither category, his entire way of thinking was thrown for a loop. Granted, his mother was a woman who fit into neither category as well, but to every man, their mother was an angel, the exception to every rule they had towards women.

Frowning to himself, Derek decided it didn't matter. This time next year she and the rest of those girls would be out of his hair and he would be able to live his doomed destiny in peace.

Besides… it wasn't as if _she _could be The One… No. No, it was impossible. Improbable.

At least, that's what he told himself.**

* * *

**

Last edited: 12/24/08


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary: **A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

0 0 0

**Chapter Five**

"If you don't mind me saying, milady," Priscilla began tentatively, "you and His Highness certainly dislike each other. Have you met before?"

"No, we have not," admitted Cecilia. She was trying to pick her words carefully; Derek was this woman's master, after all. "My father, as I suppose you have heard, is very protective of my sister and myself. When he declined Queen Marguerite's invitation on my behalf, The Prince was far from thrilled and sent a rather… _persuasive _letter to my father. Let us just say that I for one do not care for The Prince's methods."

Priscilla bit her lip. "Master is quite… temperamental," she conceded. "I do not suppose it makes up for the fact that he threatened your father, milady, but I would like to say that he has never laid a hand on any of the servants."

The comment itself was irrelevant, but nevertheless it brought a faint smile to Cecilia's face. It did speak well for a man when his servants thought well of him. However, she still thought he was a bit of a bastard, pardoning her language.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Cecilia said to the poor servant, "I never thought he would, madam."

With a nod of approval, the plump woman opened the doors to Cecilia's room. "Do you like it?"

The room itself was a good size, neither too large nor too small. With a small but sturdy fireplace, large windows, and a balcony, it was cozy and refreshing all at the same time. Tastefully decorated in colors of cream and a silvery blue, Cecilia was in love. "It's so… oh, it's _gorgeous_," she breathed. "I… it's not home, but I don't know how I can be homesick here."

"I'm so glad you like it miss," Priscilla beamed. "Now, if there's anything you need, milady," she told the young woman, "just let me know. I'd be happy to get it for you."

"I will," Cecilia smiled genuinely. "Thank you, Ms. Priscilla."

Grinning broadly at the nickname, Priscilla gave one last curtsey and let Cecilia be alone.

As soon as she heard the woman's retreating footsteps, Cecilia let out a squeal and ran to the bed, flopping on her back. Sighing, she let out a giggle. She was miles away from home, without her father watching her every move or worrying about six hours of lessons a day. There was finally a motherly figure back in her life… although the young man who came with it was a thorn in her side. But no matter; he was a minor nuisance. And besides, she as going to be living with young women… her age!

Suddenly sitting up on her bed, Cecilia frowned. She couldn't have been the only one here. Who else had shown up?

Padding down the hall, she could hear faint trills of laughter. Glancing at a nearby Grandfather clock, she vaguely noted that it was tea hour. Right before she entered the room, she smoothed her lilac gown and took a deep breath.

As she stood in the doorway of the room, she surveyed her current roommates. There were three tables; two with four chairs around them and one with only two. In the middle of the room were four girls, twittering with their shrill voices. Blinking, Cecilia could make out chatters of the names "Florinda, Lucinda, Belinda, and Melinda." Ah. So they were The Infamous Four. Known throughout the continent for their irritating and ditzy ways, their popularity merely stemmed from their powerful military father.

The table on the far right contained only two chairs, taken up by a blonde girl with ice blue eyes. This was Princess Heidi and her faithful, yet conniving governess.

As for the table on the left, it was filled with three girls, whom Cecilia knew to be princesses. She had met the Princess of Spainne before, Ana, and rather liked her. The two were supposed to keep in touch, but then the war had happened and post was difficult to come by.

The girls sitting with her were entirely different from each other, and Cecilia guessed them to by the princesses of Eyerlin and Scoughtlyn. Luckily for her, there was one chair left at the table where the three girls resided.

As she glided into the room, everyone stopped their conversations and stared. "Let me guess," Princess Heidi, the first to break the silence, raised a blonde eyebrow. "_You _are the Princess Cecilia."

Sensing a challenge, Cecilia raised an eyebrow of her own. "That is correct. And you must be the Princess Heidi."

With a brisk nod of confirmation, Heidi turned back to her governess and the tension broke at the unusual greeting. The Infamous Four went back to their conversation—they would not give Cecilia the time of day, as she was not their perfect cousin.

As for Ana, she rose from her chair and gave Cecilia a graceful hug. "It is good to see you, my friend," she said in Freench, which was what etiquette deemed they must speak. Etiquette called for that in whatever country one was, they had to speak the native language. Therefore, all of the girls conversed in Freench and only Freench. "I have not heard from you in so long."

"Likewise," Cecilia answered. "I am glad to see one familiar face here. But would you introduce me to your tablemates?"

With a smile, Ana did just that. Fiona murmured a quiet welcome with a small smile and Tessa bluntly asked if it was true that Cecilia could ride, fence, and do archery.

"My skills," answered Cecilia, "are minimal. But I suppose if I were in the position to protect myself, I wouldn't be entirely defenseless."

With an approving nod, Tessa said, "I think that every girl should know how to defend herself. Especially with so many brutes out there." Here she inserted a rather manly snort. "It's just those fussy men think that we wouldn't be able to defend ourselves."

Apparently this was a familiar rant, for Fiona quickly changed the subject. "What did you think of Prince Derek, Miss Cecilia?"

"Call me Cecilia please," the girl in questioned smiled. "We haven't had a very good first impression of each other, but I didn't come here to 'win' him anyway. I just wanted to get out of the castle. I haven't traveled in so long."

Ana nodded. "I came for the same reason. I know the Prince and I would never suit. Although," she inserted a sly smile here, "he's quite handsome, isn't he?"

Fiona's reply was a telling blush while Tessa rolled her eyes. "If it were him and me on the battlefield," Tessa said, "I think we'd know who would be victorious."

Cecilia laughed. She knew she'd have a good time here.

0 0 0

It was approximately eleven fifty at night and the short butler, called Chives, heard a faint rapping on the door. Opening it, there was a drenched figure with silk and satin clinging to her curvaceous body.

"I know it is terribly late, _dear butler_, but I am_ quite_ wet and would hate to catch a cold before I meet the prince. So if you would just let me in, I would be so terribly obliged."

The little man blinked. "And you are?"

"You haven't heard of me? No matter, I am sure we will be acquainted in due time. I am the Countess Keleigh of the region Venn. Now may I enter?"

Glancing at the clock, the man had no choice but to let her in. After all, she had just met the deadline.

0 0 0

The next morning, the girls were in the same room where they had tea, waiting for someone to escort them to breakfast. "I am surprised to see the Countess Keleigh is not here," Ana whispered anxiously to Cecilia. "She is a social climber through and through. An opportunity to become a princess—she would've jumped at it!"

"Tell me about her," Cecilia replied back, intrigued.

"She started out as a lady-in-waiting to the Infamous Four," gossiped Ana. "But while she was at their court, she caught the eye of a count, who became enchanted with her. They married quickly and he died very recently. Rumor had it she killed him when she heard of Prince Derek's search for a bride."

"That's terrible," whispered Cecilia, horrified.

Ana nodded in agreement. "However, I haven't met her before, so I wouldn't jump to conclusions yet. From what I hear, everyone adores her," thinking about this, Ana suddenly wrinkled her nose. "Although now that I think of it, the only people whom I've ever heard give such lavish compliments about her are noble men."

Arching an eyebrow, the Itallien monarch voiced, "It is too bad she is not here, though. I wonder how The Prince would react to her."

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she heard the Infamous Four start to squeal even louder than usual. "You've arrived!" One shrieked.

"We thought you would never get here," put in another.

In the doorway was the Countess Keleigh. She was strikingly exotic, although Cecilia suspected the beauty came off with all the paint and powder on her face. Her fine clothes were slightly tighter than what was proper, though nothing scandalous. Sparkling jewels adorned her neck and ears and her smile was enchanting. "Darlings, I told you I would attend, and I did. Have I ever backed down on my word?"

The four flighty girls hastened to assure their beloved cousin that of course they believed her.

The expressions of the other five girls was something worth noting. Princess Heidi watched her with narrowed eyes while Tessa had an eyebrow raised, wondering what all the commotion was about. Fiona was blushing, embarrassed for the girl whose clothes were just a _tad_ too small (although the dear innocent girl didn't know the real reason why). Cecilia and Ana schooled their faces to cool disinterest, but their eyes were watchful.

She let her cousins lead her to the table, herself being seated at the head. After a few minutes of their incessant chatter she excused herself and went to converse with Heidi and her governess, who held looks of barely concealed contempt, and Cecilia was dying to know why. Cecilia and Ana could hear bits of conversation between the two, including a rather interesting piece of information. "Here are some gifts for your family," Keleigh said, pulling some wrapped packages out of a bag. "I _do _hope they're doing well."

"Quite fine, thank you," Heidi said curtly.

"That's wonderful. Be sure to tell Crown Prince Kristoff 'hello' for me? He was _such_ a gentleman when I visited last summer." Heidi nodded and no one missed the way her jaw clenched.

She flittered off again in a matter of ten minutes and had now seated herself at the table Cecilia was residing at. "And here we have the Princesses Tessa and Fiona," she curtseyed, barely. "I was _so _pleased to hear that your two countries have _finally_ stopped fighting." Eyerlinen and Scoughtlyn had had many battles between the two over the years, only recently becoming allies to aid Italle and Fraanc with the war against Rushha. They had been battling for so long that neither side remembered why—it was at one point mockingly called The Pointless Wars.

Fiona looked down in shame at the implications but Tessa merely said, "Why? Because they were taking up your husband's tax money?" At one point during the years, many countries sent troops in to Eyerlin and Scoughtlyn to try and stop the wars. The attempts failed and many lords were still paying in reprecussions.

Cecilia tried desperately not to laugh, though she gave Tessa a reproachful look. Whether Keleigh heard or decided to ignore the comment was unknown, for by then she had looked to Ana.

"Ana, darling, so good to see you again," she twittered. "I hear your family's expeditions concerning the Amerika's has been successful. Congratulations."

"Thank you," Ana said coolly, who was quite suspicious at this point.

Slightly taken back, Keleigh turned her eyes to Cecilia. Trilling, she exclaimed, "And you must be Princess Cecilia! My darling, I must say, I'm quite surprised."

"Oh?" Cecilia inquired politely. "May I ask why?"

"I've heard so many stories about you. You should hear what people in other courts call you. 'The Boy Princess'. Why, I expected to greet a brute when I came here!" Perhaps Keleigh thought she was giving Cecilia a compliment, though Cecilia herself never knew. And although she had heard it before, the comment still stung.

The room was deathly silent as everyone awaited Cecilia's words. Right as she opened her mouth, Chives stepped into the room. "Breakfast is served," he announced.

She decided the best way to handle the situation was to ignore the girl and show her how a _real _member of nobility acted. With her head held up high and Ana by her side, Cecilia swept out of her room and away from The Countess Courtesan.

* * *

Last edited: 2/7/09


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary: **A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

0 0 0

**Chapter Six**

Breakfast was, as expected, pretty much unbearable.

It started out tame enough. As the ten girls were being led to breakfast, everyone was silent, and Cecilia was surprised to see that Keleigh stayed in the back of the group.

The dining hall was spacious and elegant, with a long, rectangular, mahogany table in the center. Tapestries and portraits draped the walls and Cecilia could not help but be reminded of her own dining hall. They were all seated, in no particular order, though everyone noted that Keleigh ended up towards the chairs of the Freench monarchs.

The girls sat down, waiting patiently for the Queen and Prince. Marguerite entered first, smiling as the girls rose to greet her. "I trust everyone had a good night's sleep," she remarked.

Various murmurs of "yes's" and "of course's" were heard throughout the table.

"Excellent," the regal queen replied. Turning to a nearby butler, she asked, "Would you tell me where Derek is?"

"I believe he is in his study, Majesty. May I fetch him?"

Her face briefly revealing an annoyed look, Marguerite sighed and said, "Yes, please."

Catching the expression, Ana asked, "Is he in his study often?"

Marguerite confirmed it with an exasperating nod. "His life is his work. Even worse than his father was."

Taking this with a note of surprise, Cecilia said, "Well… at least he is dedicated. I have met other young royals whose main priorities are attending balls and hunting animals." The Infamous Four started to scoff and were silenced with a look from Keleigh, who was rather quiet herself..

Though not for long. The doors suddenly burst open, revealing a flushed Prince Derek. For the most part, his appearance was impeccable, though his hair was slightly unruly and shirt was tucked in messily. He bowed to the ladies and said, "Terribly sorry I'm tardy," he went to kiss his disgruntled mother's cheek. "There was a proposal that had to be looked over."

"Well, 'twas terribly rude of you to keep us all waiting. You know we can't eat without you."

Scowling, Derek said, "Of course you can. I don't care about those stuffy rules." Just as his mother began to reprimand him—

"I know, aren't they awfully ridiculous," came a sultry voice. Heads turned, including Derek's, to the speaker, Countess Keleigh.

Derek merely blinked. "Um… Yes, Lady…?"

"Keleigh," the woman in question simpered. "Countess Keleigh."

"Well, pleasure to make your acquaintance," he bowed slightly. "I don't believe we had the honor of meeting last night."

"I was caught in the most dreadful storm and did not arrive until five til midnight," she purred. "Luckily I just made the time constraints."

"And I am glad you did," he said, inclining his head. To everyone else he said, "Good morning, Ladies."

Soft replies were echoed around the table. The food was finally served and everyone began to eat, except Keleigh, who was busy watching the prince.

The conversations were maintained by the queen, but Keleigh monopolized any conversation with Derek for herself. She did nothing terribly slovenly, but her smooth voice and calculated answers were enough to arouse suspicion in the girls. The queen herself seemed to eye the girl in dislike.

Luckily, Derek, quite uneasy, gave short, one word answers at best and left Keleigh thoroughly disgruntled. It was obvious he was irritated at the thought of being distracted at breakfast. Almost immediately after he was finished, he stood up abruptly, bowed, and said, "I must leave you all, I'm afraid. Lots of business to attend to. Please, enjoy yourselves." Then he promptly left the room, leaving a shocked group of girls.

With another sigh, the queen said, "I apologize for my son. His work is, as I mentioned earlier, of utmost importance to him. However, do as he says and enjoy yourselves. With the exceptions of mine and Derek's quarters in the East wing, you have free roam of the castle. If you would like to go into town, please notify someone before you do. Midday meal is served promptly at one o' clock and if you need anything, please, don't hesitate to inquire."

As soon as her little speech was over, the Infamous Four, led by Countess Keleigh, traipsed out of the room. Princesses Tessa and Fiona went in search of the armory. Walking towards the queen, Cecilia had a question in mind. It surprised her that Ana and Princess Heidi were there as well.

"Your Majesty," Heidi said, "do you happen to have horses here?"

With a delicate laugh, Queen Marguerite replied, "Of course, my dear. Would you like to take a turn about the grounds?"

"I would like that very much," Heidi replied, and looked the most pleasant Cecilia had ever seen her.

"You may choose whichever horse you like," the queen replied generously. "Just please take someone with you." After giving the girl directions to the stables, Heidi nodded graciously and departed.

Ana was next in line. "Pray tell, Your Majesty," she began, "but do you have a music room?"

"You play music! Wonderful. What do you play, my dear?"

"The piano and lute, Majesty."

"Delightful. We have both instruments here. You must grace us with a concert one of these days."

"Of course, Majesty," Ana looked extremely excited. "I thank you."

"It is of no trouble at all, dear" replied the graceful queen. "It's in the North Wing—right hall, third door on your left."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," curtseyed Ana, and with a smile at Cecilia, left as well.

"And what do you need, Cecilia?"

"Would you please tell me where the library is?"

A small, knowing smile made its way to Marguerite's face. "Yes… I do," the queen seemed to ponder for a moment. "It's in the East Wing. Left hall, second door on your right."

Cecilia frowned. "Isn't the East Wing where yours and Prince Derek's quarters are, Majesty?"

Marguerite waved her hand flippantly. "I assure you Cecilia that the library is far enough away from mine and Derek's quarters so that we would not be uncomfortable with your presence. You just go ahead and find your books."

"If you insist," replied the younger woman. "But I thank you so much."

"Anything for Dominique's daughter," the queen said to the girl, and watched as she seemed to glide out of the room.

That was when that same mischievous smile came forth once again.

0 0 0

Making her way down the left hallway of the East Wing, Cecilia couldn't help but have an uneasy feeling bubbling in the pit of her stomach. The portraits on the walls of the hall seemed to glare down on her through their aristocratic noses. She felt as though she were on display; nonetheless, she kept her back ramrod straight, her gaze forward, and her shoulders back.

Stopping at the second door on her right, she waited a moment before turning the handle. Although she knew the queen would have no reason to lie to her, Cecilia couldn't help but wonder…

_Three… two… one… _In one fluid motion, she twisted the handle. Almost as if on its own, the door flung open. Inside was a good-sized room. The walls merely shelves filled with books. Hundreds and hundreds of books.

The library was far from large, however. For such a handsome castle, Cecilia was surprised that the library wouldn't be grander. Although, it was such a charming little room, decorated in burgundy and gold, that Cecilia hardly minded the least. An elegant fireplace was on the West wall, with two comfortable, burgundy reading chairs beneath a beautiful rug. Near the North wall was a mahogany desk, perfect for writing letters to. The East Wall held what seemed to be a few buckets, filled with ice and champagne. Interesting.

Stepping out from the doorway, Cecilia let the door close softly behind her. Crossing the room, she stopped in front of the North shelf and wondered where she should begin. Her question was answered momentarily, however, when her gaze settled on a thick navy book with silver lettering. Pulling it out, she read the title: Magical Creatures and the Enchantments that Bind Them. Interesting.

Just as she turned the page, however, the door swung open and a voice demanded, "What are you doing here?"

Whirling around, Cecilia faced the imposing figure that filled the doorway.

"I said, what are you doing here?" Derek demanded, stepping closer to her.

For a moment, a flash of fear ran over her, but then she stopped. She had no reason to be afraid of him. "Last time I checked," she began dryly, "this was the library."

Derek stopped mid-stride. A frown of confusion settled over his handsome features. "Who told you that?"

Cecilia raised an eyebrow. "Your mother," she told him, filing away his odd reaction for further analyzing.

An indecipherable look swept his features but in an instant it was gone. "Er, well, then," he took a deep breath, trying to calm his temper. "I apologize then… no one is usually in the… _library _other than myself."

She could only blinked at him, stunned. Was this an actual _apology_ coming from the haughty, cocky man she had met the day before? Instead of voicing this question out loud, however, she merely nodded her head and replied, "Your apology is accepted, sir."

An awkward moment seemed to creep up on them just then, and both were wracking their brains for some polite conversation to make. Derek, upon seeing a book in her hand, spoke first. "Er… what book are you reading?"

The question came to an unsuspecting Cecilia, and she had to glance down at the title before replying, "Magical Creatures and the Enchantments that Bind Them." Was it just her or did Derek's gaze narrow just a tad?

But, he responded calmly. "And why did that book pique your interest?"

"I… don't know, really. When I first entered the room I really didn't know where to start looking for a good read; your collection is fairly extensive. To be honest, I suppose I was drawn to it."

"Do you know much on the subject?" He asked, starting to move about the room slowly.

"Nothing much really," she confessed. "My education on the subject was postponed when the war began… my tutor went off to fight."

With an almost teasing tone, Derek replied, "What? The Great Princess Cecilia, supposedly the most knowledgeable princess of the continent, not an expert on magical creatures?" Was she blushing?

" 'Tis not my fault!" She protested. "Besides, I'm making up for it now, aren't I?"

"I suppose you are," he conceded. In one quick gesture, he grabbed a book off a shelf he was standing near and went to an armchair by the fire. "Come on, I'm sure it's much more comfortable over here than there."

Wondering why he was being so nice to her, Cecilia sat down, her skirts swishing about her legs. "What are you reading?" she enquired.

He showed her the title. "Hamlett?" She said. He nodded. "By Wilem Shakespure?"

"The very one," he confirmed.

"Is it good? I've never read his tragedies," she admitted.

"It's very good," he told her. "Lots of court drama, scandal, murder, etc. Sort of depressing, actually."

"I think I've had enough depressing tales," Cecilia said grimly. "Besides, I like to read his comedies."

"They are quite good, aren't they?" He grinned. "They're much better as plays, though."

"They are," she said. "Although they're only performed in Inglin."

"It's too bad," he agreed.

The two were silent for a good while, absorbed in their respective books, until Cecilia finally blurted what she had been dying to know. "Why are you being so agreeable today?" She asked, "when you were so rude earlier?"

To her surprise, Derek raised an eyebrow. "Subtlety is definitely not your forte, is it, Princess?" He said dryly.

Scowling, Cecilia threw her hands up in frustration. "That's exactly what I'm talking about!" Another awkward moment of silence ensued, as Cecilia waited for the same answer Derek was trying to articulate in his mind.

With a sigh, Derek's expression turned serious. "Just before I came here, my mother demanded to see me and reprimanded me for my rude and 'beast-like' behavior." Here a scowl came. "And as I was representing all of Fraanc, I needed to become more—at the least—diplomatic to my guests. As you were the next person I came across, I decided that I should be quite kind to you as I was hardly welcoming when we met." He shifted a tad uneasily. "Besides, it's not as if you're an extremely difficult person to talk to."

Smiling at the backhanded compliment, Cecilia decided to go a bit further. "You have been quite aloof with myself and the other girls," she said. "And yet you were so… forward and cocky when we met. Why?"

"I didn't like the fact that your father refused to send you here. As I had the power to make him send you, I kind of wanted to revel in it. I suppose when I saw you I… felt triumphant. That I really did have power… And I wanted you to know it, as well," apparently the old saying that honesty is the best policy didn't seem to apply here.

A flush of anger swept over Cecilia. "You—you—swine!" She shouted, furious, uncaring that she wasn't being ladylike. "How dare you be so ungentlemanly and stupid! How dare you make my father give me up! I was needed at home."

At first he was rather shocked at the turn of events, but he was swift in response. With a sneer, Derek retaliated quickly, saying, "You're lucky I saved you! You wouldn't have been let out of your castle for the next decade if your father had his way!"

"That's just because he's worried that something would happen to me," she shouted at him. The two were out of their chairs at this point and right in each other's faces. "Surely you can't find fault with that!"

"I understand the fact that anyone would want to keep their children safe," he gritted out, "but he was being entirely unreasonable and paranoid! Keeping children captive in their own homes is hardly living."

Cecilia silently agreed with this, but would never admit to it. Instead she responded, disdain in her narrowed eyes, "And I suppose that if you had been my father, you would've been a 'better' parent! Because you're so _perfect _and everything."

For whatever reason, that commented caused the fire to evaporate out of Derek, his eyes empty except for a trace of bitterness. "Let us make one thing clear," he said, a forced politeness in his tone, "I may be a lot of things, but I am certainly not perfect."

Stalking towards the door, he wrenched it open. Right before it slammed shut, she heard a, "Good day, Princess."

With a huff, Cecilia sat back down in the chair, folding her arms stubbornly. He hadn't changed at all. He was still a stubborn, _hateful _man.

0 0 0

She refused to look at him a dinner that night.

He was absent at lunch, sending a rather fancy message, articulately begging their pardons but he had urgent business that needed to be taken care of and that he couldn't wait to be graced with their presence at dinner.

_Savage pack of lies, _viciously thought Cecilia, dreading the evening meal.

But there she was, and she couldn't do a thing about it. Worse off, they were seated right across each other, with the queen at the head, Derek at her left and Cecilia on her right. Keleigh was seated on Derek's left, much to her pleasure, while Ana was seated on Cecilia's right, much to _her_ pleasure.

All Cecilia could think about was how much she didn't want to be there. So much so that she completely tuned out any voices she heard around her. Especially if they turned out to be _his._

Unsurprisingly, he talked little throughout the meal. This did not deter people such as Keleigh or the Infamous Four on commenting every five seconds. But not everyone disrupted the prince. Tessa and Fiona chatted amongst themselves, Heidi said not a word, but openly eyed everything in distaste. Ana made polite conversation with the queen, who was as gracious and modest as ever.

However, all awkward moments must come to an end. As the queen cleared her throat, Cecilia's wandering attentions immediately focused in on Fraanc's sovereign.

"As Derek and I were so thrilled that you all would be staying with us for the year," she began, "we knew there was much to celebrate. So, we have decided upon welcoming you with a ball."

All of the girls, albeit Tessa and Cecilia, started to perk up at the idea of a ball. With a pleased smile, Marguerite continued, "All of your family will be invited and hopefully they will attend. For all of you who get homesick easily, here is a chance to see them again. Many noblemen and noblewomen across Europa will be invited as well. Derek and I are hoping for everyone to be merry and just have a wonderful time."

"When will the ball be held, Your Majesty?" Keleigh wondered.

"It will be held a month's time," replied the queen. "The invitations went out yesterday."

The other ladies continued to chatter, but Cecilia thought she was going to be sick. She absolutely _loathed _balls. All the fatal corsets and ludicrous amount of petticoats and nauseating gossip and odious suitors… oh, it was revolting.

Unknowingly, Cecilia glanced at the man sitting across from her. He too looked rather pale. If it were any other time, she would be rather triumphant. As it was, they seemed to be in the same boat.

A sigh from her directed his gaze to focus in on her face. He gave her a tired little half smile. They had just declared a temporary truce and all over a tedious, ridiculous ball.

Heaven help them all.

* * *

Last Edited: 2/7/09


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary: **A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

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**Chapter Seven**

He was uneasy.

This was nothing new, actually. He was uneasy a lot of the time, about various things. About ruling, about life, about marriage, about the…ahem. But today, it was neither of that that bothered him. Rather, it wasn't something but someone.

Cecilia. He had to admit that he treated her rather abominably, especially during their first meeting. He didn't know what overcame him. He wasn't the nicest person to walk the earth, but he certainly wasn't _that_… arrogant. He was hardly ever that vicious.

Derek once prided himself on not bearing many of the characteristics of his forefathers. They were cruel and merciless tyrants and they were the very reason he was in this current predicament. Derek had their temper, but he liked to think that he was better in controlling it. Apparently not. And that bothered him immensely.

Striding confidently down the hall, he hoped Cecilia would be where he had hoped she would be. Much to his relief, as he opened the door to the little library, he saw her, sitting in one of the chairs, a novel propped open upon her lap. As she sat near the roaring fire, with her cheeks flushed from the fire and her lips the most enchanting shade of shell pink, Derek couldn't help but compare her to a delicate flower.

When she saw him enter, her eyes widened slightly, but she did not move. He didn't either. They looked at each other for a few more pauses until she finally stood and bowed her head in greeting and respect. "I didn't expect to see you this morning, Crown Prince."

He gave a slight bow as well. "I… was looking for you, actually, Crown Princess," he admitted, deciding to try that honest route again.

"Really?" The ice that coated her words slipped away with surprise.

He nodded. "I just… I wanted to apologize."

The hardened looked took over her features again. She scowled and turned back to her book. "Let me take a guess, Your Highness. Your mother caught wind of what you said and demanded you apologize."

Derek frowned. "_No._ I genuinely feel bad for what I said. It was… it was terrible of me, to say the least. I don't know why I did it. I let my temper get the best of me—it's a rather nasty characteristic." Before he knew what he was saying, Derek scowled, muttering, "It's bad enough that I am to have their fate, but the fact that I am no better than they… that is just unacceptable. And I'd hate for you to think me as terrible as them—Princess. I really am quite sorry—"

Cecilia stopped him, suddenly scared at the hysteria in his eyes. Whatever it was that he was struggling with, it was far more important than the petty games they played. It was time to stop. Besides, his apology really did seem sincere. "It's… it is fine, Highness. I accept your apology," she gave him a little smile to show him that she had forgiven him.

This very much relieved him, for he let out a breath of air he didn't realize he had been holding. "Thank you."

A silence fell over them. Once again they stood, looking at each other. Finally, Cecilia gave him a little quirk of her eyebrow, asking, _Are you going to just stand there? _Giving her a little smirk right back, he strode over to the bookcase, picked up _Hamlett_, and sat into the chair near hers.

They read in a comfortable silence for a while, before with a sigh, Derek slammed his book shut. Cecilia jumped slightly at the sound and her eyes went to him immediately. She could feel his discomfort and embarrassment, as if the sheepish smile wasn't enough indication.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just have a lot on my mind."

"The ball?" she asked with a dry smile.

"I'm afraid so. I always hate those damn things, pardoning my language," he cursed.

Cecilia laughed. "No, I don't mind at all," she said. "Truth be told, I never cared for balls as well. I may have been raised as a lady, but they are certainly not my forte, I assure you."

"If you don't mind me saying, you are definitely not a conventional lady, Princess," Derek reminded her.

Instead of getting angry, Cecilia merely looked at the clasped hands folded in her lap. "No," she agreed, her voice tinged with winsome and regret all at once. "No, I'm certainly not, am I?"

Derek frowned. He could detect the unease and the insecurity of her tense figure. "That's nothing to be ashamed of," he told her, trying to lighten the mood. "Honestly, it's better than being one of those girls who chats and twitters all day long about nothing. Or one of those girls whose only goal in life is to marry well and do whomever—I mean, do it _however _she can."

Cecilia flushed at the implications but pointed out placidly, "But what can you expect? Society doesn't exactly have many opportunities for girls."

Derek leaned his head on his hand, a thoughtful look on his face. "Yes, that's true, isn't it? I know Mother has been trying to get some girls academies up and around rural areas. Although I confess I'm not too optimistic concerning its success."

Cecilia bristled. "And why not?"

Derek saw her expression and hastened to explain, "I'm not saying that I am against girls getting an education, so don't look at me like that. All I'm saying is that girls are expected to do just as much work as boys in farms and shops and so forth—or so I hear. How can they be spared around the house to go to school?"

For once, Cecilia was silent. As much as she hated to admit it, he had a point. But then, "Why couldn't you pass a law that made girls—or all children, rather—go to school a certain amount of time out of the year?"

She saw him considering the idea, his dark eyes narrowed in calculation. "I personally like the idea," he told her finally, "but I'm not sure how The Council will take it, or the common people. Children are like hired help in families and quite crucial. Besides, how am I to ensure that the children are actually going to school? Who will teach them? Will families have to pay? Or will there be a tax on things? Who will pay the teachers? How many schools per children, per area? Will there be different levels? How are we going to get supplies to these schools? What supplies do we need? What subjects should we teach? How long would they be in school per day? There are so many variables that it's absolutely mind-boggling, Princess."

It seemed he had thought about this before, Cecilia mused, and decided that all she could say was, "One step at a time, I think. Just one step at a time."

"What about Italle?" Derek wanted to know. "Do you have a school system?"

"We once had an established school system," Cecilia admitted. "Children would go to school during the winters, where work on farms and shops were slow and limited. The schools were segregated by gender, although I personally would like to see them integrated. Oh well, beggars cannot be choosers—Anyway, we didn't want to tax the townspeople, so the teacher would get paid with room and board at people's homes. In short, every few weeks the teacher would be at a different pupil's house. If the said teacher would prefer his own home, then people would pay him with food or supplies or clothing, etc. There was always a certain amount of money set aside in the treasury for school supplies to send to the children. They were taught basic reading, writing, mathematics, science, and literature. Attendance was never a problem because the system was established a couple centuries ago and people don't know anything different. My ancestors were quite ahead of their time."

"Obviously," Derek said, impressed.

"However," confessed Cecilia, "since the war, schools have been damaged. Teachers have gone off to fight and many killed. Families have been devastated and can't spare their children for school. Not to mention our treasury has been so drained we can't give funds to schools. It's a terrible wreck right now," she looked genuinely distraught.

Mimicking her words, Derek said softly, "One step at a time, Princess. Just one step at a time."

Both monarchs never suspected that those words were now the motto of their newfound friendship.

0 0 0

Neither Cecilia nor Derek asked why the other always came up to the little room after breakfast. Derek suspected Cecilia was as fed up with the girls as he was, and Cecilia was positive Derek wanted some alone time as well. The two would read for a couple hours, mostly not talking, although it didn't matter. The silence was companionable and both took full advantage of it.

Needless to say, it wasn't entirely smooth sailing from there. More times than not, Derek stormed into the library in a foul mood. In the beginning, this surprised Cecilia. At breakfast he was polite and calm, but she learned later that he was upset at something The Council did, or so-and-so wasn't paying taxes, or what's-his-name got into a fight with someone-or-other and both arguments were entirely ridiculous, but as prince, of course _he _had to end the silly squabble. At first, Cecilia was as irritated at his behavior, and the two would have little tiffs.

"I would dearly love to see you attempt to rule a country, Princess," he would tell her any time she complained.

Cecilia pursed her lips. While her father let her sit in on meetings with Parliament, he hardly ever let her help. However, with Derek, his mother was queen in title only. She had hardly any want to rule the country, at least not by herself. She let Derek make decisions to prepare him for becoming king. "I may not be the ruler of my country, Crown Prince, but I certainly know the process," she would snap right back.

And then he would stomp away out of the room, only to return ten minutes later, with a small bribe of snacks and a mumbled apology. And of course, because her temper had calmed down by then as well, she would always accept him.

So today—two weeks after their initial truce—was no different. She was sitting in what she had deemed 'Her Chair', waiting for his loud arrival.

_Three… two… one…_

Instead of the usual SLAM, the door opened slowly, and Cecilia raised her eyes, curious. It was indeed Derek. He looked resigned and definitely irritated. Oh, dear, not again.

Swallowing, Cecilia eyed him warily. "Dare I even ask?" She voiced dryly.

He gave her a wry little smile of his own. "No," he told her, "the look on your face speaks volumes."

Rolling her eyes, Cecilia gave him a, "Har-de-har, that was hysterical. Now _really_, what's wrong?"

Flopping into a chair, formality be damned, Derek gave a sigh. "Mother took me aside after breakfast and has been complaining that I haven't been playing host very well. The only time I see you girls is during meal times, really, which I find ideal. However, Mother wants me to…" here he looked pained, "spend some time with all of you. Starting with today after lunch. We're going on a…a walk of the palace grounds. All together." Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he continued, saying, "I only spend a good two hours a day with these girls and already I know it's going to be a headache. Tell me, am I right?"

Thinking of The Infamous Four, Heidi, and (here Cecilia's eyes narrowed), the Countess, she replied, "It's not going to be a headache, Highness," she paused for dramatic effect. "It's going to be a migraine."

"Why me?" Moaning, Derek put his head in his hands. "Why _me_?"

Although Cecilia felt quite sorry for the prince, she couldn't help but grin sadistically to Ana after lunch and say, "This is more entertaining than any ball will_ ever_ be."

Trying to stifle a giggle, Ana said, "You're terrible, Cecy," she had taken to calling Cecilia Cecy, just as Cecilia's sister did. "The poor boy. I would go save him but I'm afraid for my hearing." If Ana intervened, The Infamous Four would probably make such a ruckus over it anyone with in five miles would go deaf.

As if by silent agreement, the girls let Countess Keleigh and Princess Heidi be at the Prince's side. Right behind them were the Infamous Four, twittering and giggling even more than usual. Trailing a few yards back were Ana, Cecilia, Tessa, and Fiona. Fiona was silently picking flowers, a faint smile on her face as she listened to Tessa doing imitations of Countess Keleigh. Ana was laughing hysterically, knowing that no one could hear her (the Infamous Four took care of that problem.)

With a contented smile, Cecilia reflected that perhaps this hadn't been so bad after all. Fraanc really was a beautiful country, especially the wooded capital. The capital itself was situated on rolling hills in the middle of a lush forest, though the river that was near led to a larger town. The solitude and peace of it all was soothing and with the snow-capped mountains in the distance and the trickle of a nearby waterfall in the background, it really was an ideal place to just… be.

The village was quaint and homely, with friendly faces and the smell of fresh bread. It was evident that the townspeople adored the stoic prince, who never failed to courteously ask how the market was faring, if prices were acceptable, if the latest trade from Switzerlin was successful.

Here in the village everyone sobered, becoming nobility once more. Even the Infamous Four toned down their obnoxious ways. Now that they were amongst commoners, however, rank was in order. Cecilia and Ana were now at Derek's side, for they were first in line for their respective thrones. Behind them were Heidi, Tessa, and Fiona, who, while they were princesses, were not Crown Princesses. And then, sulking behind them were the Infamous Four and Countess Keleigh, who were not monarchs at all.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cecilia saw Derek visibly relax once she and Ana were at his sides and she tried to smother a laugh.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Crown Prince?" she managed to ask sweetly.

In a split second, Derek's reserve melted and a scowl emerged, but Cecilia blinked and his visage was neutral once again. "It certainly has been a memorable experience, Princess," he said, and Cecilia smirked at the double-meaning behind his answer. "And yourself?"

"It has been pleasanter than I expected," she answered honestly.

Derek turned to Ana and repeated the question, while Cecilia turned her attention elsewhere. A few feet away, a beefy, pot-bellied man had just kicked a puppy, its whimper muffled by the chatter of the crowd. "Scram, mutt!" The man yelled. "Be gone!"

The puppy itself reminded Cecilia more of a wolf than anything, but looking closely, it wasn't a wolf. Its fur wasn't the typical flinty gray, but white and black, although many wouldn't spot the difference. But because she had been to Greenlin, Cecilia knew that this was a husky puppy, approximately six months old. But how had it gotten to Fraanc?

One thing was for sure, she had to rescue it. Murmuring an "Excuse me, Crown Prince," she took off, weaving through the crowd.

Meanwhile, snapping his attention from conversing with Ana to Cecilia's retreating figure, Derek scowled. _What has that dratted girl gotten into this time? _He turned to Ana, who already said, "I think it be best if you see where Cecilia has gone, Crown Prince. Do not worry. Tessa and I will keep things under control." Nodding gratefully, Derek took off.

It turned out she was hardly four yards away. She was in the middle of a heated monologue with a rather menacing man, who only looked down sheepishly. He heard her say, "I think I will be taking this 'mutt' sir, and I hope that in the future you will be kinder towards animals." As she turned around, she bumped into Derek, saying, "Oh, Your Highness."

He didn't answer her, only staring at the little thing in her arms. He frowned, deeply, his senses confused. It certainly _looked _like a wolf, why didn't it smell like one?

"It's a puppy," Cecilia hastened to explain. "Do not worry, it's not a wolf. It's a husky puppy. They are commonly mistaken for wolves. I saw one once in Greenlin."

The pup, seeing Derek, immediately tried to wiggle into his arms. "I think he likes you," Cecilia told him with a smile.

Derek recognized the reason why the pup seemed to like him so much and brushed off the subject. "What are you going to do with him?"

Cecilia bit her lip. "I haven't decided yet." She pondered, finally looking at him with a hope in her eyes. "Do you think…? Would it be all right if I…?"

With a sigh, Derek rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, you may keep it. But don't let it run rampant around the castle." Seeing the huge smile on her face made giving in worth it.

The walk home was filled with either disgusted glances or womanly coos at the little puppy ("Oh Cecily, he is so adorable!") who lapped up the attention like a cat with milk. His mother hadn't minded the dog's presence, merely repeating Derek's, albeit more politely.

All the servants, once they found out it was a cute and furry puppy instead of a mangy cat (Cecilia didn't understand why no one in Fraanc liked cats), immediately set to spoil the pup. Derek, for one, couldn't stand to be anywhere near the scene and fled. For whatever reason, seeing Cecilia later that night with the wolf-ish puppy, cuddling it and loving it, made Derek's heart ache.

And that scared him.

* * *

Last Edited: 2/7/09


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary:** A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

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**Chapter Eight**

"You haven't been here in the past few days," Derek commented, not looking up from his book as Cecilia tried to come into the room as quietly as possible.

"How do you do that?" Cecilia gasped, startled at his voice. He wasn't even facing her direction and somehow, he knew she was there.

"Magic," Derek said simply. "Now, why have I not seen you lately?"

With a tired grin, Cecilia plopped into the chair opposite him. "I have been trying to train Ilario not go to the bathroom on any carpet and to bark at the door if he wanted to go outside."

Derek snorted. "Good luck with that." A moment passed, then, "Mother says you've named the pup 'Lupo Ilario.' Interesting names—Itallien, I assume. What are the meanings?"

" 'Ilario' means 'cheerful'," beamed Cecilia. "He is so full of energy I never cease to smile when I'm around him."

"And 'Lupo?'" Derek raised an eyebrow.

" 'Wolf', although I'm to call him 'Ilario.' It's easier."

Trying to conceal his surprise, he asked, "Wolf? Why wolf?"

"Everyone thinks he's a wolf because they've never seen husky puppies—I'm not quite sure how this one came to be in Fraanc." Cecilia bit her lip worriedly. "I do hope there aren't any wolves nearby, though. If I let Ilario roam outside, do you think they would harm him?"

Derek's lips twisted into a smirk at her words. "There are no wolves around for miles," he replied smoothly. "Not until you're closer to the other towns, anyway. No, the pup is safe if you let him explore. Although he will need training, I'm sure."

"A great deal of training," Cecilia agreed. "I don't want him to become a hunting dog, though, but I think it would be tedious for him just being a companion."

"I do not think it would be," Derek said finally. "It is a fairly new idea, but I've heard of dogs becoming guardians for nobility. I doubt it would be difficult to train Ilario to be your watchdog."

"Really?" Cecilia's eyes lit up and Derek had trouble not breaking out in a grin. It was refreshing to see someone so good, so _pure _and innocent, even after horrible wars and famine and poverty. Frowning, Derek wondered if he had ever been so innocent. Probably not, but it was no use dwelling on such things.

"I'll look into it," he promised.

She gave him a tremulous smile and Derek had to look away. This girl was doing strange things to his heart.

"How have you been these past few days?" Cecilia asked suddenly. "Now that you know what I've been doing."

"I have been busy, as usual," he said darkly. "Mother's harassing me about the ball constantly—I don't know why she can't just take care of those sort of things—and the Councilmen are telling me who to invite and who not to invite and we _must _invite so-and-so but _definitely _not whats-his-name. Honestly, it's been rather tedious."

"I agree," sighed Cecilia. "Everyone has been going insane because of this ball. All the girls want new dresses, and Ana has been telling me to have one made as well—but honestly, what a waste. I have perfectly usable dresses of my own."

Derek shrugged rudely. "I suppose it depends, doesn't it? When was the last time you got something new for yourself?"

Biting her lip, she answered, "A couple years ago, during my last growth."

Frowning in surprise, Derek said, "But it doesn't seem as if…"

"No, it doesn't, does it? I have someone alter my outfits so they don't seem terribly behind the times—you know how people talk if I am not fashionably conscious. I don't let Father spend money on clothes, although I'm sure people would be happy to create them for free. No… what is important is rebuilding the country," she smiled wistfully, "and although a new dress would be nice, I don't need one."

Derek scoffed. "That is ridiculous. You deserve something new… Let me pay for it."

Raising an eyebrow at him, Cecilia said, "While I thank you for the offer, you and your family have shown me enough generosity; I must decline."

Irritated, the prince replied sharply, "This isn't charity, if that is what you are implying. I am trying to be nice—why can you not accept that?" Obviously, this wasn't the right thing to say.

"You are so insufferable!" She fumed. "I was genuine in my refusal. I realize that you are not being charitable towards me. Either way, I must decline. I may not have many things any more, but I still have my pride." As if daring to reply, she glared at him momentarily, the fire in her eyes igniting even further. Then the moment passed, and she was gone, the door swinging behind her.

That girl was going to be the death of him, he knew it. Rubbing his fingers at his temples, Derek didn't understand where he went wrong. He wasn't being insufferable, or rude, or cruel; what was her problem? But Cecilia was right, he thought grimly. If he was in her shoes, he wouldn't have accepted the offer either. Still…

A sudden thought occurred to Derek. It was a plan that couldn't fail—granted, the Council might be just a tad bit upset, and he doubted Cecilia herself would be pleased, but it was just too ingenious of an idea to pass up.

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With a satisfied smile, Derek inhaled the alpine air. It was the day of the ball and everyone was running around, constantly in a flurry. He, for one, felt dizzy just looking at all of the preparations. Multiple guests began to trickle in from all sorts of places and were making him feel claustrophobic with their incessant chatter and condescending attitudes. With a regretful pang, Derek realized that King Cesario had declined to come, disappointing Cecilia greatly. _Perhaps if I had been more polite in my letter to him all those months ago…_

So because his territory had been invaded, so to speak, it was decided that Derek needed to get out of the castle and it was the perfect morning for it. A hazy mist settled over the land and the dew that daintily resided on the lush vegetation made a man feel rather poetic. Stopping his trek, his face broke into a wide smile.

Just beyond the waterfall that was near his home was the only meadow around for miles. There was something about meadows… so open and free, where you could see the entire sky, not just bits and pieces like you would if you were in the forest.

Settling down on a random spot of grass, Derek laid back and watched the clouds drift pass. Thinking back to plan he devised and carried out the week before, he couldn't help but smile. Everyone reacted just as he thought they would.

His mother beamed at him; saying it was a wonderful idea, albeit a tad pricy. Yet, they were throwing an entire ball, so what were a few more added expenses?

Derek was fairly sure that if the girls disliked him before, they all adored him now. Even Tessa looked faintly pleased at the prospect and Heidi actually smiled.

The Councilmen were not quite as understanding. Purchasing dresses for ten girls was expensive and while a generous gift, entirely too frivolous.

Derek countered, saying that it wasn't fair that some girls could have new dresses and others wouldn't because of their status after the war.

"If you don't mind me saying, Your Majesty," a man said, "but if life were fair, livestock would have guns and could fight back."

Fury lighting his eyes, Derek snarled, "While I appreciate your input, gentlemen, the last time I checked those young ladies are _my _guests and I should be able to be as generous as I wish." As he grew older, Derek learned that pulling rank was an arrogant and tacky way to govern people, but there were times when his mouth didn't agree with his mind. Not to mention it was pretty effective.

So now Cecilia had to accept the new dress, if she didn't it would be considered rude. Derek wouldn't put it past her, but knew that even she wouldn't be so stubborn. At least, that was what he hoped.

Suddenly, Derek sat up. Someone was coming. He could sense it. They were approaching rapidly… But were they behind him or in front?

Whimpers and excited yips filled his ears. Turning, Derek saw that blasted pup coming towards him. "Ilario?" he wondered aloud, testing the dog's name on his tongue. _Cheerful wolf_. Honestly. Who had ever heard of a cheerful wolf? He certainly had not.

The puppy barked in reply. It seemed to say, _I've found you!_

With a growl, Derek conveyed, _Why? Who's looking for me? _

Ilario didn't answer, instead coming up to Derek and climbing into his lap, licking him all over his face.

With a sigh of resignation, Derek started to pet the puppy, scratching it behind his ears and right under his chin. Ilario was delighted and wiggled happily in his new alpha's arms.

"There you are!" Soon Ilario was up again and went straight to his mistress. "You shouldn't have gone so fast. I thought you'd run off."

Knowing that voice anywhere, the prince's eyes focused on Cecilia. How had she…?

"What are you doing here?" He wanted to know, his voice curious, not demanding.

"Looking for you, of course," Cecilia replied smoothly, her tones neutral. Derek was immediately suspicious. He had not been alone with her for over a week and had no idea what was running through her mind.

"Did you have Ilario track me?"

"Of course I did. Your mother lent me a favorite shirt of yours to let Ilario sniff. He seemed to know exactly what I wanted." She bent down to pet the puppy, cooing, "Good boy."

"Well, you've found me, milady," conceded the Freench monarch. "Now what is it you wanted to discuss?"

"Do not act as if you are ignorant, milord," Cecilia said crisply. "Do not think I didn't know what you were up to when I heard all of the ladies, including myself, would receive a new dress, courtesy of a certain Prince Derek."

Slyly, Derek smirked, "I should hope that you knew what I was up to. Otherwise I would've overestimated your intelligence."

Cecilia glared. "Insufferable man," she muttered. "And to think, I was coming here to thank you for it." She whirled away angrily until a firm and warm hand held her wrist prisoner.

"Don't go," she heard him say, and was surprised at his soft tones. "Come now, I'll listen to what you have to say with no interruptions, I promise."

With a sigh, she slowly turned and saw that his attention was solely focused on her, even when Ilario had a mouthful of Derek's shirt, trying to get him to play. The situation would have been almost comical if his expression was not so solemn.

"I wanted to thank you for going through so much trouble," she told him, looking at their joined hands. "I hope I'm not being presumptuous, but I believe you devised the plan just so I could get a new dress that I couldn't refuse. And for that, I'm honored to accept," she grinned goofily here, "such a cleverly given gift."

"It was my pleasure," Derek told her, and could not recall the last time he had felt so kind. "You deserve such things," he blurted before he could stop himself. "You've done so much for your people." He felt a twinge of self-resentment. Derek doubted he could ever be as selfless as she.

As if sensing his mood, Cecilia replied softly, "And you deserve to be happy." She didn't know what possessed her to say such things, but they were true all the same.

For a long time the two did not say anything, embarrassed by their respective outbursts. Finally, Derek stood, and held his arm out to Cecilia, saying quietly, "Come. We must prepare for tonight. I'm sure my mother is out of her mind out of worry for us."

"Yes," she agreed. "We have been out entirely too long." She bit her lip, saying hesitantly, "It was nice, though. I can see why you love it so much here."

Silently, he led her and Ilario to his shortcut—a cave that led from the meadow to behind the waterfall. Creeping their way around it, they took a dirt path back to the castle. Once they arrived, Cecilia pointed out the many grass stains Derek had on his shirt, while Derek reminded her of her very dirty dress hem from walking on the dusty paths.

Once Priscilla and Queen Marguerite swooped down on the two, they were immediately separated and taken to get ready for the ball.

"We only have three hours," cried Marguerite, pushing her son towards a male servant. "Nathan, please hurry and help Derek dress," she pleaded.

"Mother!" snapped Derek, "I am not a child."

"Judging by the state of your clothing, I beg to differ," the queen snapped back. "Now hurry!"

After being thoroughly scrubbed in now-cold bath water, Derek's hair was trimmed and his clothing assembled. As he stood fully attired in front of a mirror, Derek eyed himself in a rather critical manner. Shiny black shoes and plain black dress trousers adorned his legs and feet. A simple, yet elegant white dress shirt was worn under a dark navy coat, adorned with various gold trimming and buttons. His dark hair was trimmed short, as was the fashion, and no longer did his bangs hide his eyes.

"I feel like a damn dandy," he muttered, tugging on his collar, which was awfully tight.

"It's what your mother wanted, sire," Nathan told him with a sympathetic smile. "And I dare not argue with her."

"Who would?" Derek said, nodding understandingly.

Before Nathan could answer, a knock on the door was heard. "Derek." Speak of the devil. "It's time."

Taking a deep breath, and with another sneer at his reflection, the young prince turned and left the safety of his room.

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After Cecilia was thrown into Priscilla's care, she was rushed to her room, Ilario trailing behind excitedly. "Where were you and the Master?" Cried Priscilla. "I knew you were out looking for him, but you mustn't make the queen fret so."

"I'm sorry, Priscilla, we just lost track of time," Cecilia replied honestly.

"And what were you doing that lost track of time?" Priscilla raised an eyebrow. "Were you lettin' him woo you, milady?"

With a shocked flush, Cecilia exclaimed, "Heavens no! Derek and I are…" What were they, exactly? Friends? Acquaintances? Certainly not lovers, that was for sure. "Derek and I are not involved romantically," she finished firmly.

Priscilla gave her an "if you say so" look, but said not a word as she quickly undressed Cecilia and forced her into the bath, where she became tender after all the scrubbing.

"Your dress came in while you were away, Your Highness, and I do think you'll like it," Priscilla's eyes danced with glee.

When the dressmaker came to Cecilia the week before, asking what type of dress she wanted, Cecilia merely told the woman to surprise her. And now it was time to see it.

A good hour and a half later, Cecilia was in a similar position as Derek: in front of the mirror, her eyes scrutinizing her own reflection.

Her thoroughly brushed hair resulted in a soft, dark waterfall streaked with red and sun-kissed with honey. However, half of it was pinned up and tiny star flowers were put into her hair.

Draped about her figure, the dress that she wore was spectacular. A deep green color, the layers of satin and silk clung to her curves and brought out the flecks of green and gold in her amber eyes.

Around her neck was a gold chain with a small golden rose as its single charm. As she was a princess, her petite crown, also gold, was placed upon her head.

"Oh, Princess," breathed Priscilla, "you look magnificent."

Cecilia watched as her reflection blushed, pleased and embarrassed. Before she could thank her servant, a knock was on her doors. "Princess Cecilia, it is time."

She closed her eyes for a moment, bracing herself for the events to come. Once it was assured that Ilario would be properly looked after, she then left the cozy room, never suspecting how altered her life would be once she stepped back into it.

* * *

Last Edited: 2/7/09


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary:** A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

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**Chapter Nine**

"Presenting Her Royal Highness Princess Cecilia Alessandra Oriana Croci of Italle," a low voice boomed. Taking a deep breath, the said princess picked up her skirts and walked slowly, daintily down the elongated staircase, praying she wouldn't trip.

"Cecy, you made it!" squealed Ana when Cecilia made it to the bottom. The two girls shared a grin. It was hard to make it down the stairs in those skirts.

"Barely," Cecilia whispered back as the girls took their place, side by side. Once the other girls were announced and successfully down the stairs, Queen Marguerite made a short speech, thanking the various nobility for attending the ball and to please enjoy themselves.

"I can only imagine how much hard work was put into this," whispered Cecilia to Ana, who was openly gawking at the decorations. This was no small feat for Ana, who lived and resided in gorgeous palaces that had been built by the Ancient Moors, who were skilled in the art of calligraphy.

The ballroom was wide and spacious, an area that could easily fit several hundred people. The ceiling was a high dome, with heavenly artwork painted upon it. In lower parts of the ballroom, the finest candles were placed in what can only be described as sparkling chandeliers. Drapery consisting of silk and satin adorned the walls of the ballroom, with matching cloths on the tables where a feast of foods lay on dishes of gold and silver.

"There is His Highness," whispered Ana playfully, her eyes focused on someone beyond Cecilia's shoulder. "He is looking for you, I believe." Glancing behind her quickly, the image of Derek burned Cecilia's brain. The said man was looking quite dashing in his finery, and the way he carried himself was always something to be in awe about. There was some sort of hidden stealth, a strength that Cecilia felt she hadn't been exposed to.

"Oh, hush," glared Cecilia. "Believe me, there are no romantic notions on his part." Ana smirked, noting that she said nothing about any notions on _her _part.

"Princess Ana, Princess Cecilia," Derek said formally, bowing as they curtseyed. "I trust you both are enjoying yourselves."

The girls murmured polite answers and Ana said, "If you will excuse me, Your Highness, it is quite warm in here. I must go fetch myself a drink." And before the two could say anything otherwise, she was gone in a flurry of red skirts and black lace.

All at once, the stoic, unfeeling expression wiped itself off of Derek's face, leaving dark, sparkling eyes, curving lips, and an overall pleasant visage. "Is she frightened of me?" He inquired. "She seemed to escape from my presence rather quickly."

Cecilia sighed, knowing full well as to why Ana left them "alone". Glancing at his amused face again, her stomach twisted. Damn that man for being so handsome. Why had she not noticed before? "That is just her way, Highness," she replied.

Derek frowned at the stiff response. "Are you all right? Have I done something to---"

"Your Highness!" A man at Derek's side gave both of them a fright. "So good to see you again," the said man bowed briefly and Derek inclined his head in greeting.

"It is always a pleasure to see you as well, Anton," the latter responded cordially enough, though Cecilia could sense irritation in his eyes at being interrupted.

As soon as introductions were made, Anton launched into politics. Sighing internally, she said, "If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I must go fetch some refreshment."

With a curtsey, she was off. Cecilia liked politics as much as the next royal, but balls were bad enough without people blabbing to you on what they think you should do. She pitied Derek; it was something one could never get used to.

At the refreshment table, something caught her eye. It was a vase of gorgeous, deep red roses as decoration. She, of course, had seen roses before, but there was something sort of _mesmerizing _about them. There were a dozen, all perfectly formed, with fatal thorns still intact. They had such a flawless quality about them that she couldn't look away.

Cecilia leaned forward, smelling them. The fragrance engulfed her senses and flooded her nose. Even the smell was enchanting. The roses smelt as they were supposed to but there was something else… a familiar scent that seemed much more… _masculine _than what flowers were supposed to be like.

"Pardon me, Princess?" Startled, Cecilia whirled around only to see the face of a man, who bowed apologetically.

"Yes?" She blinked.

"I was wondering if you would favor me with a dance," he smiled.

Not wanting to seem rude, Cecilia answered, "It would be my pleasure." She took his outstretched hand and he led them to the dance floor.

The two were silent for a better part of the dance, seemingly scrutinizing the other. He was quite handsome, Cecilia admitted. His golden hair shone under the light, his demeanor was obviously aristocratic—his only unique feature were his striking, ice blue eyes. It was hard to look away from them; they were mesmorizing. Luckily, the nameless man guided her flawlessly, never letting her stumble, treating her as if she was glass. Suddenly thinking of something, she blurted, "I never did catch your name, sir."

Chuckling, the man replied, "How terribly rude of me. I am Lord Adrian Magio, Marquis of a small region in Spainne."

Cecilia almost started in surprise. While some Spaniards did have lighter coloring, Lord Adrian looked nothing like the traditional, darkly colored, Spaniard. However, she made sure not to let the surprise show and with a smile, Cecilia answered, "It is a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"And it is an honor to dance with a princess as beautiful as you, Your Highness."

Out of the corner of her eye, Cecilia saw Derek being cornered by his mother to dance. Keleigh was standing close by like a vulture and its meal and Cecilia felt her stomach clench a little. She brushed it off as pity on Derek's part, but a whisper in her mind said it was jealousy.

Luckily, the dance was coming to a close, otherwise her next actions would have been considered even ruder than before. "Would you excuse me a moment? I need to have a word with the queen." The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them, and hurried away, not catching the surprised look the Marquis gave her.

She walked towards the queen purposefully, curtseying once she was near enough. "Your Majesty, I just had to compliment you on all of the splendid decorations," Cecilia smiled. "They're awe-inspiring."

Beaming, Queen Marguerite answered, "Thank you, my dear."

Continuing, Cecilia said, "Especially the roses. They're… they're enchanting."

Something flashed in Marguerite's eyes, indescribable and sharp. "Really, dear?" she responded eagerly. "I'm sure we could—"

Cutting his mother off, Derek bowed abruptly and asked, "Would you like to dance, Princess?"

Cecilia saw Keleigh's scowl and answered with a pleased grin, "I would love to."

The orchestra's song was slower, though the beat never faltered. Derek held her closer than Lord Adrian did, as the song and style dictated, and Cecilia couldn't help but compare the two. Derek's eyes and hair spoke of darkness while Adrian's blond hair and clear eyes told of light, and Derek's arms held an amount of strength that was uncommon among nobility. Instead of holding her as if she was a doll, as Adrian had, he held her with a grip that was neither firm nor gentle, as if she had the choice whether she could stay in his arms or not. Breaking their silence, the said prince complimented sincerely, "You look quite beautiful tonight, Cecilia."

She locked eyes with his, startled at his intimate use of her given name. After a few moments, she slowly smiled. "You clean up rather nicely as well… Derek."

A flash of his old scowl came back to his face that moment, as he quickly tugged on his collar. "I never believed my mother when she said 'beauty is pain'… until now."

Chuckling, Cecilia agreed, "Yes, now do you understand how we females feel?"

"I do indeed," he replied with a quirk of his lips. The rest of the dance passed by in silence and after coming particularly close to Derek, Cecilia realized that he smelled faintly of roses. Before she could think upon the matter any further, the orchestra struck up a livelier tune. With a cock of his eyebrow, Derek challenged his partner to dance with him again. Said partner acknowledged the challenge and with matching grins, they were off again.

Twirl, change partners… one two three one two three… come back. "Are you enjoying yourself?" Derek managed to ask.

"Very much so," Cecilia answered. Change partners, spin… four five six one two three. Come together. "I cannot remember when a ball has been so fun."

With a final twirl, she was back in his arms as the orchestra played the final note, dramatic and loud. "I am quite exhausted," Cecilia laughed, "would you accompany me to fetch some refreshments?"

"I would be honored," Derek smiled, wondering when the last time he was in such a pleasant mood.

It was at that table where the roses were. Seeing them, Derek began, "I noticed that you… you liked these roses particularly well—" Before he could finish his thought, The Infamous Four, dressed in their respective finery, came trotting up excitedly.

"Oh, Crown Prince!" One twittered. "Would you care to dance to this next song?" Derek looked like he'd rather eat Ilario's feces, but managed a polite smile and agreed, giving Cecilia a look that said, "I'll be back later."

Watching him go with a sympathetic gleam in her eyes, Cecilia suddenly noticed a figure by her side. "Ana, how long have you been standing there?" she wanted to know.

"Long enough," Ana replied slyly. "I was watching you and the Crown Prince. You are in love, are you not?"

Cecilia blinked. "Of course not! We hardly know each other. And even then, we are quite lucky if we can go a day without arguing."

"We are not in Eegypt, Cecy, so it is no use for you to be rowing down denial," Ana giggled at her own joke.

Rolling her eyes, Cecilia replied, "I'm not in denial, Ana, I am just being logical."

Ana began to say something, then stopped. "Cecy," she began, "who is that gorgeous man, and why is he staring at you like that?"

"I told you, Ana, Derek is not—"

"So you do think he's gorgeous!" smirked Ana, triumphant. "But never mind him—for now—I am speaking of another fellow. Look yonder, by the orchestra."

On the other side of the room was Lord Adrian. "Oh, that is Lord Adrian. Is he not a Marquis of a region in Spainne?"

Gasping, Ana said, "You are right, Cecy! Lord Adrian! I have not seen him in ages. I had forgotten how unorthodox he looks; his mother was Rushan, however, and he favors her immensely… although I'm unsure of his father. Although he was a Marquis, he never came to court and I believe he died during the war. That Lord Adrian though… girls in my country easily consider him to be the most handsome man in Spainne, that is for sure." The two girls lapsed into silence, scrutinizing the puzzle of a man before them. As if he could sense their gaze, he turned and began to walk towards them, an easy smile on his face.

"Princess Cecilia, Princess Ana, it is lovely to see you both again," he bowed. "How are you fine ladies faring tonight?"

"We are doing quite well, thank you sir," Ana smiled. "And yourself?"

"I am having a marvelous time," he said charmingly. "However, my night would not be complete without a dance from Princess Cecilia. Princess?"

What else could Cecilia do? She accepted and let him gently lead her to the dance floor. Outwardly, Cecilia enjoyed their second dance as much as their first, but she noted that she was not as comfortable with him as she was before. And for the life of her, she could not imagine why. _Is it because now you know what it is like to be in Derek's arms? _An annoying voice—sounding ridiculously like Ana's—buzzed in Cecilia's mind. Wiping it away, Cecilia decreed the thought delusional and completely false. It was illogical and above all, Cecilia was, as she said, logical.

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The dance ended but Cecilia remained Adrian's captive. He persuaded her to dance the next number and Ana observed as a muscle in Derek's jaw ticked dangerously from where he stood, a few feet away. Was the Crown Prince jealous?

"Only one way to find out," muttered Ana, as she strolled up to the said prince before another member of the Infamous Four could snare him. "Crown Prince," she called. He turned, a polite smile on his face as he greeted her. "I just wanted to compliment you on throwing such a spectacular ball." _Ask me to dance, fool. _

"Why thank you, Princess," he bowed. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Immensely," Ana answered, then sighed. "I always love a ball, especially the dancing. I love to dance." _Hint… hint… hint. _

"Heaven forbid you not dance," Derek replied, as she knew he would. "Would you care to be my partner for the next piece?"

"I would be honored," Ana fluttered her eyelashes playfully, obviously imitating one of the Infamous Four.

Laughing at her antics, Derek and Ana went to join the other couples, Cecilia and Adrian among them. The dance dictated that one had to remain with their partner the entire time, so Derek and Ana were able to converse while dancing.

"Crown Princess," Derek said as their topic on books came to a close, "would you mind informing me who the gentleman dancing with Cecilia is? He… he looks quite familiar." Inwardly smirking, Ana was impressed. She was surprised he had lasted this long before asking.

"That is Lord Adrian, Crown Prince," Ana said. "He is a Marquis of a region in Spainne. Rather quiet and secretive, I suppose he's the sort of fellow who keeps to himself. We hardly see him at Court."

"I see," was all that Derek could manage. "This Lord Adrian… he is a good sort of man, is he not?"

"From what I have seen of him, he is a perfect gentleman, Crown Prince," Ana answered. Trying to test the depth of his affections for Cecilia, she went on to say, "I am sure this is the third dance he has shared with Princess Cecilia. He must be quite attracted to her, I daresay."

"And what of the Princess?" Derek wanted to know. "Does she…?"

"She is very flattered by his attentions, I am sure," Ana replied smoothly.

Poor Ana, all she was trying to do was spark Derek's jealousy enough to give him a push in Cecilia's direction. Little did she know that her comment caused Derek's blood to boil. And that was hardly a good sign. Derek could feel his jaw aching as his teeth started to grow sharper and larger. The muscles in his legs and arms flexed, slowly growing, and his fingers itched as the length of his nails began to escalate. _Dammit, _Derek swore softly. Why did this have to happen now? Why couldn't he control his temper?

Luckily, the dance ended shortly after and quickly Derek excused himself in a rather raspy voice. Trying to remain calm and salvage what was left of his temper, the Prince got a drink of punch. The color was red and reminded him of blood. No good. Looking around, he saw Adrian laughing with Cecilia.

_Bastard…Must… hurt…_

He had to get out of there.

Frantically, his dark eyes sought out his mother, who saw the warning signs. Her eyes widened and he nodded, telling her he could handle it. Without further ado, he strode out of the ballroom. Once out of out sight, Fraanc's regal, commanding prince, sprinted as fast as he could to… to where? Normally he went to That Room, but it was too close to the ballroom. He had to get as far away as possible… yes. The library. If only he could make it before The Transformation was complete.

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Her amber eyes watched as Derek left the room, seemingly with purpose. Cecilia saw the exchange between him and his mother. Was something wrong? She did not know why, but she had to go and see if everything was all right. It was none of her business, she should be enjoying the party and Lord Adrian's attentions, but Cecilia could not. Not when there was something… off about Derek.

Excusing herself, Cecilia quickly slipped out, unaware that someone saw… and followed.

She heard footsteps sprinting rapidly and she followed, slipping off her dratted shoes that made so much noise. In only her stockings, she hardly made a noise. The rustle of her dress was drowned out by the sound of boots pounding stone.

Soon, the familiar rhythm of a man running came to a halt. The sounds of agonized howls filled the dark hallway. Following them, Cecilia realized she was in East Wing. Running up the staircase, the moans came from… the library?

The door was closed, but opening it, the sighed that filled her vision brought horror to her eyes.

Writhing on the floor was a beast, its back to Cecilia. No, not a beast. A _wolf_. Except, it wasn't. It was far larger than the average wolf. Covered in dark fur, it was a powerful creature, its muscles rippling as it squirmed, wrestling with the demon that lay within. Fascinated, mesmerized, she could only watch as the wolf seemed to want to tear itself apart inside and out.

Thoughts seized her mind. Where was Derek? Was this what he was going to investigate? Where is he then? Getting a gun? However, her mind and heart seemed to cease to work as she spotted a pool of tattered dress clothes on the floor. Derek's dress clothes.

Making a little gasp, Cecilia quickly covered her mouth as the beast stopped writhing and sharp ears perked up, hearing her. Slowly, it got up and turned, its dark gaze meeting hers head on. There was something achingly familiar about the gaze, those eyes that spoke of pain and torment, anger and fear… She _knew _those eyes.

Suddenly—

"Oh Dear Lord," she whispered, shocked at her realization. The wolf hadn't harmed her prince. The wolf hadn't harmed him at all. What caused her next actions were unknown, and to the day she died she could never explain why she did it. Without thinking, Cecilia slowly raised her hand, daring to touch the beast that was Derek.

* * *

Last Edited: 2/7/09


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary: **A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

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**Chapter Ten**

It was one of those moments that seemed to freeze time. An impossible second that could stop flooding water in a stream, stop a bird mid-flight, or a baby in the middle of a wail.

Cecilia's world seemed to freeze, shatter, and then proceed to turn upside down. She did not understand _why _she was going to touch Derek—he was wild, untamed, and what if he didn't have control over his actions? But her one thought was to try and calm him. Soothe him. Take away that anguished look in his eyes.

Just as her fingertips brushed his snout, the moment was lost and the river of time flowed once again as Derek—wolf Derek—brushed past her and out of the library. The minute that followed could make or break Cecilia. She had two options; stay in the library, safe, away from Derek, or go after him—he who could be wild and severely harm anyone in the ball room… O Dear Lord.

She glanced around the room frantically, wondering if there was, amongst all of this knowledge, something that could help her decide. Her eyes landed on, of all things, a large tapestry that was situated to the right of the fireplace. It was odd how she never noticed it before. Stitched in the cloth was a man, proud and pompous, his eyes the same shade as Derek's. Beside him was a wolf, large, powerful, whose eyes were cold, deadly, and awfully similar to the man's. Gulping, Cecilia debated on what she should do.

But she knew that really, there was no question as to what the right thing was. Bolting out of her stupor, she tore open the library door only to see the beastly Derek standing, patiently, his furry gray body in the direction of the staircase. With his head, he gestured, and Cecilia swore she could see a gleam of humanity in his eyes and a challenging expression on his wolf face.

Straightening her shoulders and giving him a precise nod, Cecilia dutifully followed him. _Where you lead, I will follow_, the thought ran through her mind. However, instead of traipsing down the staircase, Derek led her beyond that to another hallway. Abruptly he stopped at a door. Turning to face her, he jutted his snout in her direction and stamped his front paw on the ground, indicating she stay there. Disappearing into the room, he reappeared sometime later with a pair of dark breeches and a white dress shirt. Again he turned towards the staircase and this time went down it, and she followed, looking frantically around for any movement.

He led her into a hallway she had never been before, and with only a few torches as their guides, Cecilia crept closer to the massive wolf beside her, wanting his protection. Their path twisted and turned, while Cecilia's mind raced. Would people notice their disappearance? What would they think? Does the Queen know of Derek's condition? What if he never turns back? What if—her thoughts ended as she ran into Derek, who had stopped at the door and whose eyes were scrutinizing her, puzzled.

Flushing, she murmured an apology, wondering if he could understand human language and opened the door. Inside was what dazzled her.

It was apparent that the roses placed on the tables in the ballroom came from here. The room wasn't very large, but it was enough for a mini-garden such as that. It was circular, and the domed ceiling was made entirely of glass so that one could gaze up at the blazing sun, or in their case, the magical night sky. There were only roses. Though the majority was red, the colors varied from white, pink, golden, and yellow… None of them were wilted. All were healthy and vivacious and utterly beautiful.

So engrossed was Cecilia that the faint noise of bones shifting and cracking didn't even catch her attention. When she had turned, she was faced with a shirtless, disheveled Derek, who (in the nick of time) had managed to put on trousers.

Although she was flushing profusely, that did not stop her from facing him. "When… when did you…?"

"Transform back?" He asked casually, as if they were discussing the weather. "Just now, actually. It's much quieter than becoming a wolf, I must say. And a lot less painful as well." He threw the shirt over his head, hiding his surprisingly well-defined muscles. _Does he get those from being a wolf? _She had to wonder with another blush.

"This room is beautiful," she turned her back to him again as she fingered a red rose, not quite sure what to say. Luckily, he offered her an opening.

"It is peaceful, isn't it? I come in here whenever I transform. It's a secluded area from the castle—hardly anyone can hear my… the transformation. These roses were a gift from the person who put the spell on my family… their scent helps us keep our peace of mind."

"How… how long have you been like this?" She whispered, almost afraid to voice it louder.

"All of my life," he said simply, and she whirled around to face him, watching him watch her.

"Why?"

"Why? I was born with it. My father was born with it. My grandfather was born with it. Ten generations have had The Curse."

"The Curse?"

He gave her an apologetic smile that did nothing to hide the obvious fear and pain in his eyes. "I suppose I should start from the beginning, should I not? It's a rather tragic tale—no happy endings, I'm afraid. But it was justly brought upon us. That I cannot deny.

_"My ancestors were cruel tyrants, who were too busy with their own selfish needs to care about their people. They dragged our people into senseless wars, made them pay ridiculous taxes without seeing any of their money coming back to them, and let plagues ravage the country. _

_"As you know, there are a few races of sorcerers and the like. One of the most powerful of them all, The Enchantress of Light, heard of our family and knew something had to be done. If the royal family continued down their destructive path, Fraanc might have never recovered. One may question why the people didn't rebel, but they were so malnourished and poor they could barely stay alive, let alone take down their monarchs. _

_"The Enchantress came to my family on one of those gloomy nights—where the wind moaned and the rain fell like a child's tears. She came with a warning that if my family did not change their ways, the gates of hell would be released upon them. Upon uttering the words, she disappeared into thin air._

_"That should have thoroughly scared them, but they were foolish and thought she was bluffing. While the magical race was feared, they scoffed, thinking 'It is only one Enchantress. How powerful can she be?'_

_"A year passed and no changes were made. Another famine swept the country and so many people were dead. The Enchantress came back on another stormy night and my family saw how powerful she truly was._

_"When they saw her, they demanded she leave their sight; they did not have the time to trifle with magic. She would not depart and the men began to throw things at her, try and shoot her—but she was magic. Magic could never die. _

_"With an irritated scowl, she commanded a curse upon the royal family. **'When you unleash your wrath, the people will see how ugly you truly are, inside and out.'** Before their eyes, the first painful transformation began. They were life size wolves._

_"She lay down her conditions as they looked upon themselves in horror. Only the men in the family would be cursed—she sympathized towards the women, who were as weak and powerless as the peasants themselves when it came to their ruthless husbands. The curse would only be lifted when tranquility filled the countryside of Fraanc and if the ruler could come to peace with himself. If this was achieved by the age of twenty-one, then The Curse would be gone forever. If not, they would live with The Curse for the rest of their lives… and whatever male children they would have The Curse as well. And once the words were said, she left, merely leaving a trail of smoke and centuries of misery in her wake."_

Wondering how she could even find her voice, Cecilia asked, "What happened then?"

"My ancestors researched The Curse, trying to find a flaw. It turned out that the specific curse had been placed on only five other families throughout the ages and out of the other cases, only one family broke it. How? Through correcting their mistakes and finding peace within themselves. This peace was, oddly enough, true love, a soul mate referred to as the True One. If the youngest male in the family proved to be a good ruler and was able to find happiness with love, then and only then would the spell be broken.

"In the meantime, rumors had gotten out about The Enchantress and her spells, and my family wanted no one to know the truth. So they fired their staff, replaced them, and moved the entire capital. They've moved it to various places since then, inhabiting castles that were used by smaller lords and later abandoned. To you it sounds strange, and it is, so my family came up with a reasonable half-lie—they moved from place to place to ensure prosperity in the general area. A few decades later, my family was in for another rather nasty shock. The original servants who were employed when the enchantment took place found my ancestors, saying that they could not age, they could not die. The Curse extended to them. If and when it is broken will they be able to die in peace."

Stunned and saddened, Cecilia could only gaze at Derek, who gave her a weak smile that conveyed that his story was not over yet. "My family was full of slow men, I believe," he continued. "It took roughly five generations to undo the damages of the former rulers, and only then were they able to concentrate on transforming themselves."

With a frown, Cecilia wondered aloud, "And what of the women? When they married your forefathers, were they just expected to live with being married to someone who was under this?"

Grimly, Derek nodded. "That is why Fraanc is known for women who, while quite beautiful, are meek and easily manipulated. My forefathers did not have neither the time nor the will to search for their said 'True One'. Therefore, women were chosen who would not breathe a word of The Curse and who obediently carry on the line of sons." Glancing at the girl beside him, he saw she was seething in anger on behalf of the women. "My parents are a special case," he told her. "They were not soul mates, but my father decided, unlike many of his predecessors, to try and make the best of his marriage, especially once he learned that his wife was not the typical subservient woman. Ultimately my parents learned to care for each other but it was too late."

Finally, Cecilia spoke. "So this is why you invited princesses from all over? You're looking for your… True One before…"

"My twenty-first birthday," Derek finished. "Yes, an attempt courtesy of The Council and my mother. They believe that even if I do not find a soul mate among you lovely ladies, at least I will marry one of you and continue the line." Here his features hardened, and a determined glint in his eye came into focus. "But I will tell you the same thing I have told them: I never want my children to have to suffer like I have. I want this to end with me. And if it doesn't… if I do not break it… then I shall never have children at all. Whether they like it or not, this will end with me. I will die childless, heirless if that means saving any of my children from harm. I will name an heir whose blood does not flow through my veins if that means saving my children, my sons, the pain that I have known."

Unsure whether to be horrified or touched at the thought of Derek dying alone due to such a selfless act, Cecilia asked, "But how do you know… what if you find your True One? How would you know that it is truly she?"

She failed to notice how Derek stiffened, "My family thoroughly interrogated the clan who broke The Curse. There is a book… on how one can know if someone is really their True One. I cannot name all of the qualifications by heart, but I once deemed it impossible to find my True One."

"It is not impossible!" Cried Cecilia, unable to lose him to the depression he was forcing upon himself. "She is out there, somewhere, just waiting for you, Derek, I know she is."

He gave her a wry smile, and looked at her now with amusement more than despair. "Think about it, Cecilia," he said calmly. "That is like finding a diamond in rocks, a needle in a haystack. Out of all the girls in the world, somewhere there is my one in a million. What if she is in Greenlin? Chinah? God forbid, Russha? The odds are against me, and I have only six months left to find my True One. And… what if I find her, and she does not care for me?"

Cecilia made a face, as if this was a stupid question. "Oh honestly," she said irritably, "that is the_ least_ of your problems."

"Is it?" Grinned Derek charmingly, though she suspected it held a tinge of cynicism. "What are you trying to say, Cecily?"

She smiled a little at the unexpected nickname, but replied evasively, "If you have not reasoned it for yourself, then far be from me to tell you."

Suddenly both could feel the atmosphere; light, playful, and all together rather… magical.

"So you do not hate me then, Cecily?" Derek asked softly.

Her eyes softened looking at him. For all of his faults and his temper, she now understood why he was who he was, and for that, she could never hate him. Besides, when he was looking at her like that and calling her 'Cecily', what else could she say but—"No, of course I don't hate you, Derek."

At her answer, a smile lit up his face, childlike and playful, and it reminded her of a brilliant flower, blooming. "Come," he said, standing. "You must return to the ballroom. I am sure everyone is wondering where you could be."

"Are you not accompanying me?" Cecilia frowned.

He shook his head. "This has happened to me before at parties. Mother tells the guests I am not feeling well or I have urgent business to attend to. I doubt she has given you an excuse however, as she does not know where you have gone. Besides," he looked down, gesturing to his attire. "I am not fit to be seen with one so nicely dressed as you." The clothes that he had gathered were rumpled, and he was barefoot without even a dress coat.

"How am I to return to the ballroom?"

"When you exit the room, go to your right. Follow the hallway and it will lead you to the East Wing. From there, go down the South hallway and you should soon hear the voices of the people. That will guide you back."

Frowning, Cecilia took in the information and then curtseyed to her host. "Thank you," she said softly, turning shy for a moment. Then, into his eyes, she said, "You will be all right, won't you? The transformations do not come…"

"Sporadically?" finished Derek. "No. They come only… only when I lose my temper. But I will be fine. It is better now that I retire for the evening." He prayed that she did not ask why he was so angry, and to his relief, she did not. With a slight bow he watched her leave the room, glancing back shyly over her shoulder before shutting the door.

Derek waited a few moments before exiting the Rose Room himself, so engrossed with his thoughts that he did not see a figure looming in the shadows, watching with cold and horrified eyes.

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A half-hour later found a fully-dressed Derek rummaging through the bookshelf of his room, wading through the books on politics and history and various languages, trying to find…

"Aha!" He shouted, holding up the small, dusty, black book. Cautiously, he opened it, searching through the yellowed, handwritten pages for the one page that held the key to his future…

The author was his great-grandfather, who Derek had learned had the best temper out of all of the males in the family. In his lifetime, once he reached adulthood, King Patrik transformed into wolf-form only five times. King Patrik was the one who tracked down the one clan who broke The Curse and he wanted to know every detail about them, deciding to write an entire book on the subject. And each generation kept it; the symbol of what little hope they had left.

"_According to the Gupta family of Indeea, there are five characteristics that are the key to confirming whether or not a young woman is the 'True One'._

_-She has seen the man in wolf form and has not shown fear. _

_-When the young women touches the man in wolf form, the man's mind clears; his mind is no longer a savage blur, and his humanity is in tact. In this stage he will not harm anyone._

_-She is entranced by the roses of The Enchantress, whose fragrance mingles with the scent of the man's. _

_-Other dogs are attracted to her, whether they be wolf or not. They, and other animals, would never harm her as long as she is in the man's territory._

_-The man feels complete when he is around her. Not only is he in love with her, but with her he is at peace; he is able to keep his temper more easily and because of her he feels motivated to strive to become a better man. _

Paling, Derek knew his thoughts were confirmed. He first suspected it in the library, and then in the Rose Room, but now there was no doubt about it. There was only one woman who fit the description of all of the qualifications.

Cecilia. His True One, his soul mate, was Cecilia.

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Last Edited: 2/7/09


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary: **A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

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**Chapter Eleven**

While Derek paced his room upstairs, the Countess Keleigh was reeling in shock. Clothed in darkness near the Rose Room, she recounted all that she had seen and heard while she let her heart beat slow.

Once both Derek and Cecilia had left the ballroom within minutes of each other, Keleigh's suspicions arose. Perhaps they were already involved with another… no matter. Keleigh refused to lose the opportunity of becoming Crown Princess to a revolting tomboy. Making a hasty exit, she listened for the two pairs of footsteps that were rapidly trailing down corridors. Following Cecilia's example, Keleigh discarded her shoes, and although it pained her to do so, she needed to go unnoticed at all cost. She could hear the ruffles of Cecilia's skirt and was thankful that she did not wear as many petticoats—the harlot that she was.

For a while she lost Cecilia, although damned if she knew how. Standing in the middle of a hallway, Keleigh was alone, rather frightened, and above all, angry. She wondered what Cecilia and Derek were up to at that very moment. Her own thoughts made her blood boil.

It seemed like ages that Keleigh stood in that hallway, internally debating as to if she should try and make her way back to the ballroom or go on and search for that courtesan Cecilia and the Crown Prince.

However, the decision was taken out of her hands when she heard footsteps again. It seemed as if there were two people, but she couldn't be sure. One of them was wearing shoes, but the other… it seemed like a soft padding, and the slight scraping of nails across stone. Pressing herself flat against the wall, Keleigh waited, her ears and eyes alert.

What she saw then made her want to gasp in horror! A wolf, larger than any wolf she had ever seen, walked stealthily, human clothes encased in his furry snout. And following behind him… Princess Cecilia!

They walked to the room a little ways before the spot where she was perched, as silent and wary as a thief. Once the door was securely closed, Keleigh crept to it, tentatively pressing her ear to the door. It was not particularly thick, and their voices were not hushed, so she could hear every word spoken.

She absorbed it all in shock, but nonetheless it soaked into her brain like red wine into linen. Towards the end of the Crown Prince's lengthy explanation, the gears in her brain were already working together, attempting to weave a sinister plan that would ensure him to her. Hearing Cecilia's impending footsteps, Keleigh crept away from the door and, listening to Derek's instructions to Cecilia, moved in the opposite direction of where the other girl was headed.

Cecilia, silly girl, suspected not a thing, gliding down the corridor as if she was already mistress of it! Derek, however, would be harder to fool. It would be too risky to try and get away now, and Keleigh suspected that if he had heightened senses, he might smell her. However, if he didn't before, perhaps he wouldn't…?

It was pure luck that he did not, for Fraanc's Crown Prince exited a few moments later, barefoot and aching from his transformation. Keleigh supposed he was so troubled that he would not have noticed her if she pranced in front of him naked.

Once it was clear that no one else would be coming upon her, Keleigh traced Cecilia's path and headed towards the ballroom. So deep in her thoughts was she that she did not even notice the stealthy steps that crawled their way down the hall. Rounding a corner, she crashed into a young man.

At the impact, both persons fell rather unceremoniously. "Oh, dear!" Sighed Keleigh, frustrated to no end.

"I am quite sorry for bashing into you like that, Lady," said the stranger shortly, standing up and giving her a hand.

Staring into cool gray eyes, Keleigh asked, "And you are?"

He bowed. "I, dear lady, am Marquis Adrian Magio of Spainne."

Blinking, unaffected, Keleigh curtseyed as well. "The Countess Keleigh of Fraanc."

"It is an honor."

"Likewise."

The two stood there for a moment, scrutinizing the other. "Might I ask why you were wandering the castle?" Adrian broke the silence.

"I could inquire of you the same question," Keleigh replied smoothly.

"I suppose you could," conceded Adrian with a chuckle. Suddenly, he seemed to take in her pale countenance and shaking hands. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Have you… have you heard or seen anything rather peculiar lately?"

Keleigh froze. "Have you?"

Adrian's eyes narrowed; his question was sufficiently answered. "Yes," he said calmly. "I have come to investigate. Not to mention that Her Royal Highness Princess Cecilia came back to the ballroom after a rather long absence, looking as shaken as you have, Milady."

Here Keleigh's eyes turned into a glare as her trembling fingers curled into a fist. "I see," she gritted out, struggling to contain her temper.

"Do you know what ails the Princess, Countess?"

It was obvious Keleigh was not clearly thinking, because she felt a tug on her brain for answers and the story poured out of her. The tale was long and detailed, for it took her a good five and forty minutes to tell it, ending with, "Now the kingdom will never be mine, nor the crown," she finished disdainfully.

If she had not been staring at the floor moodily, she would have seen Adrian's eyes rapidly glancing around him, and his tongue darting out nervously to wet his lips. "Well, Milady, I am afraid all I can do is offer you my most sincerest apologies," he said. "However… what if I told you that there is a slight chance that your ambitions may come true?"

As if he was suddenly made of gold, Keleigh's beady eyes lit up. "Tell me," she demanded.

To her irritation, the man shook his head. "While I can give you that piece of hope," he told her, "I cannot give much more. There are a few details I need to… confirm before I tell you of my plan. But until then, keep your eyes and ears open. I will contact you."

"How long will you be staying, Milord?"

"Two months, I believe. I have business with some local shipping companies and then I shall be off. When the time is right, you will know."

"I will be waiting," said Keleigh, her eyes looking like a hunting feline.

His eyes darted about again; and although no one seemed to be near, he could not help but cover up their meeting. In the normal, friendly voice that originally captured Cecilia's interest hours before, he said, "Good day, Milady. I hope you recover from your head cold."

"I thank you for asking, kind sir," the wicked smirk on her face reflected his own. "I fear that this illness shall not last long."

"Pleasant dreams, Milady," he called before the darkness overtook them both and the light of the torches could not reach them anymore.

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_Dearest Father,_

_I cannot come up with any reasonable excuse as to why I have not written often other than preparations for last night's ball have taken up the majority of everyone's time._

_The ball itself was magical. The lengths that Queen Marguerite went to ensure the perfection of the ball paid off. The ballroom in Fraanc is absolutely gorgeous—a different type of gorgeous from the Renaissance style of our own ballroom. The writings of the Moors, calligraphy, adorns the walls and is enchanting, likewise the roses that Crown Prince Derek grows._

_I fail to see why you dislike the Crown Prince so much. He is not the monster you keep insisting that he is. His exterior is seemingly cool and distant, but in reality he is polite, just, and really a perfect gentleman. Although he does have rather awful mood swings. From what I hear, however, his father was the same way, and you two were the best of chums. _

_As you know, I have reconnected with Princess Ana of Spainne. She plays music so well! I hope once I return home, we shall still be able to visit each other. I do not want years to go by again before I see this most bosom friend._

_Speaking of friends, I have made others, such as the Princesses of Eyerlin and Scoughtlyn. Princess Fiona and Tessa are a delightful, if odd, pair. It is heartwarming to see that the sovereigns of countries that used to be rivals get along so splendidly._

_But that is enough on myself—I long to know of what goes on in Italle. Does Parliament approve of the new law you were trying to pass? It is good of you to seek their approval, even though you, for the most part, are not required to have it. _

_Is Issy keeping up with her lessons? I hope you are spending time with her, Father. I know at times she is lonely, but does not say for she is so selfless. How I wish I could be like her! With this letter I am sending her a dress of mine that I have discovered no longer fits me. To be sure, it is too lengthy for her, but I am sure it can easily be tailored. _

_Most importantly, how are you, Father? I dearly hope you have been remembering to eat—do not be impatient with Issy if she asks incessantly. She is only doing so due to my own wishes. Remember not to work too hard—the Royal Physician says that becoming run-down will do no one good, especially yourself._

_I miss you all so much and while I am quite enjoying my stay here in Fraanc, I cannot wait until I am home again, with both of you. _

_Give Issy my love, just as I give mine to you._

_Your daughter,_

_Cecilia _

Examining her letter with a critical eye, Cecilia finally shrugged, folded it, and sealed it in her signature red wax. Standing from her desk, she went in search of Priscilla, who was the one she gave her letters to so they could be sent to her homeland.

Striding down the hall, she wondered where everyone was. The hallway was unnaturally quiet—the Infamous Four and the Countess must be off somewhere. Ana, she suspected, was in the music room, while Heidi was out with her governess, riding, as usual. Fiona and Tessa divided their time between the armory, where Tessa practiced with her various weaponry, or the drawing room, where Fiona enjoyed playing with water colors.

Cecilia would spend time with the girls after their last meal, where they would joke, tell stories, and just bond. She enjoyed being around ladies her own age, with similar backgrounds, and therefore, similar experiences. Their conversations were always fascinating due to their different interests, but Cecilia never tired of it.

As she walked down various corridors, still hunting for Priscilla, Italle's Crown Princess could not help but think upon the one person she had been longing to see. Derek.

_He is not the monster you keep insisting that he is. _

The line she had written to her father about him jumped out in her mind. She was telling the truth; to her, Derek could never be a monster. He was, however, Cursed. Cursed with a destiny and an affliction he did not want nor deserve. She could not guiltily think, however, that perhaps the Curse was good for him. It gave him compassion, it gave him depth. And yet, it provided him with years of pain and sorrow that she could never hope to understand.

The organ in her chest started to ache for him, and one thought ran through Cecilia's mind: she wanted to see him. She _needed _to see him. So much had happened between them in the last twenty-four hours, and she had so many questions. And whether they were about his condition or the odd feelings she was currently feeling, she couldn't say.

_Derek. _

Speaking of Derek, where was her other wolfish friend? Blinking, Cecilia looked around the hall confusedly, as if perhaps he had followed her and she had not known it. As he had not, she was left to wonder,

"Where is Illario?"

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Although he would never admit to it, Derek could easily see why Cecilia so greatly enjoyed the company of the Husky puppy. Illario was indeed cheerful and a wonderful companion, who absolutely idolized Derek.

The two had woken early and left the silent castle, where many of the guests had only retired to their chamber hours before. The ball lasted late into the night and it was tradition that the day after there was nothing, not even meals, planned.

Derek led Illario to his special place that he had been only the day before. _Could it be that a mere four and twenty hours ago that I did not realize, did not fathom…? _He let his thought trail off, instead conjuring up a mental image of his beloved.

_My Cecily. _With her curling, dark hair, that looked soft to touch and her gorgeous eyes that were filled with only compassion and caring, things that his had never shown. Like the lovesick fool that he was, Derek could only marvel at her intelligence, bravery, her unique qualities. There was so much of her he did not know, and yet he longed to learn all of her traits. He had never seen her ride her horse, or fence or do archery, or any of her other unique talents that he had heard so much about. He had never seen her with her family, had not watched the interaction between herself and her sibling.

But he saw the light in her eyes while she debated with him. He had seen her manners, her restraint whenever that harpy Keleigh made a catty comment. Derek had watched her laugh with her friends, play with Illario, chat with the villagers that adored her as much as he. He knew her smiles and her frowns, had (unknowingly) memorized her habits, instinctively knew which lock of hair fell into her face when she was animated, knew her views on a few dozen subjects. He _knew _her.

Maybe she would be his, maybe not. Perhaps he would tell her of his feelings, perhaps he would shy away. He could live the rest of his life as a hybrid of wolf and man, or he could convince her to love him. No matter what his future held for him, he would never forget this. The feeling of being invincible.

The wind blew even as the early rays of the sun wrapped around him. The sky was as blue as Illario's eyes and the clouds looked softer than a bed. Somewhere behind him, a robin sang and farther there was the rustling of a deer with her fawn grazing. Hearing Illario start to yap, Derek quickly growled, signaling that he should let the mother doe be. Illario whimped slightly at this rebuke, but quickly rebounded, grabbing a stick and frantically offering it to his alpha.

With a laugh, Derek picked it up and threw it far, letting the anxious pup scamper to grab it. He was already racing back.

Maybe his life would never be the way he wanted it to be—it was possible that he would never attain Cecilia's love. But at least he finally knew what it meant to be free.

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**Notes: **Sorry, this is only meant as a short filler chapter. Because of my two-almost-three month hiatus (stupid school) and this filler chapter, I can guarantee that you will get not one, but two updates next month. Until then, watch my livejournal (it's the homepage on my profile page) for any other news.

As I said last chapter, I am thinking of changing the title. If anyone has any suggestions, I am welcome to hear them. If I don't get any feedback, I'm currently leaning towards changing it to "A Rose Among Thorns". What do you guys think? Let me know!

To everyone who has patiently waited and reviewed, I am so grateful! Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter: **laurashrub, ladygriffin88, Tamaran Girl, tahitiliz, hazeleyedbeauty, kirsti, biancarobinson, cinnamon-sq, Abby, Nileaks Books, xiao chan, Lithanya, Kathleen, toriisen, EternityandBeyond, het2468, LOTRFREAK77, Madusa's Daughter, Ellea Dawn, Randomisation, calypsosun, Anonymous, RockStarGoddess, mattewmacfadyenismineaswellasmrdarcysoplainlyiammrsdarcy, Angel of Nature, svelte, boogabooga!, superexclamationgirl, BubbleAngel, Queen Tabitha Tall, Sarralyn, Numairsri, berry-scented, **and **summerStar.**You guys rock.

Well, that's it. Hope everyone had a good Halloween and hope that you guys have a good Thanksgiving. Until next time!


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Summary: **A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

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**Chapter Twelve**

Backing out of the library, Cecilia frowned. It seemed as if she had checked everywhere! The stables, the armory, the music room, the drawing room, the ball room, the dining room… It was as if her wolf prince and pup had disappeared into thin air.

By process of elimination, Cecilia determined that there were only three places he could be: his private chambers, in the village, or in his special place that he had only showed her the day before.

Goodness, the day before… it seemed like so long ago. Four and twenty hours ago, she had not known, could have never suspected what Derek was. And yet, while it changed things, it only made her more curious about the Crown Prince.

Lost in her own thoughts, the soft calling of "Princess?" made her flinch. She turned to find Lord Adrian coming towards her, an easy smile on his face.

"Lord Adrian," smiled Cecilia as she gave him a deep nod of respect. In turn, he bowed, murmuring how delightful it was to see her that morning.

"I would have thought you were still sound asleep," she said.

The handsome man chuckled. "I'm afraid I am too much of a morning person to sleep in, regardless of circumstances," he told her.

The two stood in silence, not knowing what to say, before Lord Adrian said, "To be honest, I wanted to find you this morning and request a walk in the gardens."

Cecilia blinked, surprised. She was unsure whether or not she should be pleased. Derek's face seemed to pop up in her mind's eye. Telling herself it was because she should be looking for him and not just because she would rather walk the gardens with him than Lord Adrian, the doubtful Cecilia let herself be guided by the man beside her to the gardens.

There, Lord Adrian spoke of her beauty and grace, and overall made Cecilia quite uncomfortable. Several times did he hint at courtship and of visiting her native land of Italle. Not having been in such a situation, Cecilia had no idea as to what to say. To his last statement all she could say was, "Perhaps."

They spent an hour in the gardens, where Cecilia spent the majority of the time trying to come up with a reasonable and polite excuse to get away. Finally, she said, "Lord Adrian, as much as I have enjoyed our outing, I am afraid that I'm quite behind in feeding my pet, Ilario. He will be very hungry once I find him."

Lord Adrian frowned. "Is that not what servants are for? To do what we should not?"

Cecilia bit her lip, trying to find a suitable lie. Then, "Um, yes, that is quite true. However, Ilario will bite anyone besides myself who does not feed him. I would not want to inconvenience Her Majesty Queen Marguerite with wounded help."

"So considerate, as always," murmured Lord Adrian as he kissed her hand and let her leave. Relieved, it took all of Cecilia's will power not to run. She wasn't quite sure what to make of Lord Adrian's advances, and honestly, she didn't want to think of it now. Her main priority was finding Ilario and Derek.

Even though she did not have Ilario to track Derek, Cecilia had a rising suspicion as to where he could be. She searched the castle, and inquired about the two in the village. No one had seen them. However, it did not worry her. She suspected that Derek had taken Ilario with him to his special place.

Wondering if the two had had anything to eat, Cecilia ventured into the kitchen with the intentions of getting a light snack. Instead, she came out with a picnic basket full of food, a blanket, and a demand from Priscilla to go enjoy the day.

As she exited the castle, she could hear faint murmurs of guests and the like, finally rising from their long slumbers. Everyone had slept in it seemed except for Lord Adrian, herself—and Derek.

Walking down the dirt path, Cecilia's face was the picture of serenity. Although her mind was in turmoil, she took comfort in the shuffling of her feet against fallen leaves, of the chatterings of the birds in the trees, of the _whoosh _the water made as it tumbled down from the meadow to the river below it…

Lifting her skirts slightly, Cecilia crept carefully on the rock path on the side of the waterfall, getting an unwanted mist from the water. Shaking her head like a wet puppy, she managed to slink into the opening in the dark den behind the waterfall.

When Derek had brought her before, she was in such a hurry to be back that she had never noticed that someone had somehow carved steps into the dirt. They were crude, but served their purpose adequately and Cecilia was grateful as she proceeded up the murky staircase.

Finally seeing some light, she was relieved as she stepped out into the sunlight at the meadow. There was a different tone in the meadow as opposed to the forest. In the forest, it seemed as if noise was inappropriate. It was like a sanctuary, a place where one could go if they wanted to escape from something annoying. The meadow, however, was a different sort of hiding place. It was bright and clear, the chirps of birds could be heard there as well, but they seemed to sing instead of squawk. Here, flowers were able to bloom as light poured onto them, and instead of dirt, there were swaying grasses. She could hear the trickle of a stream nearby, and… was that barking?

"Ilario, where are you going?"

Smiling, Cecilia knew who the voice belonged to. And it seemed to be getting closer, along with the pitter patter of excited feet.

Setting the basket down, Cecilia crouched down and prepared herself for the inevitable. "Ilario!" squealed Cecilia when the vivacious pup jumped right into her arms. "Where have you been? Have you had fun playing with Derek?"

A few moments later, none other than the Crown Prince himself appeared. His handsome face flushed, he didn't say anything for a few moments, attempting to regulate his breathing. Only a minute before he and Ilario had been playing together and then the blasted pup just dashed off. Chasing after him, Derek felt a mild sense of surprise as he saw Cecilia, petting and loving the dog. He only wondered how he hadn't sensed her earlier. It could've been the location, he supposed. She _had_ been downwind from him.

His True One looked as radiant as ever, in a simple, rose pink dress, dancing eyes, and the brightest smile. "How long have you two been up here?" She asked, not looking at him as she fretted with Ilario.

"An hour or two," replied Derek. "I am unsure of the exact time. We left fairly early, around eight or so. What time is it?"

"When I left the castle, it was about half past nine. I assume it is ten o' clock by now," she answered, standing up to her full height and gazing at him. He was dressed simply as well, in a plain white shirt and black trousers.

"Were many people up when you left?"

"Some. Not many, though. I have not seen any of the other girls, or your mother. I was unable to find Ilario anywhere, though, so I assumed he was with you."

"How did you know that I had left the castle? You didn't check my chambers, did you?"

Cecilia shook her head. "Of course not! I just… I just guessed, I suppose," she looked down as hugged her arms to her body, embarrassed.

Derek stored away that little piece of information in his mind before asking, "Would you like to return to the castle then, milady?"

Remembering her picnic basket, Cecilia shook her head. Bending down, she grabbed the basket and held it up. "The kitchen staff gave this to me. Miss Priscilla told me to enjoy the day outdoors." Taking the blanket, she spread it out and settle herself upon it. She glanced up at him, and Derek noticed how sweet she looked. "Have you eaten already? The cook packed so much I just assumed I could share it with you."

Derek never hesitated, settling himself beside her. "No, I haven't eaten. At least not much. I took a roll for myself and Ilario before we left."

Cecilia glared at him. "Goodness, you need to eat more."

"Yes, Mother," chuckled Derek, earning him another scowl.

"Oh, be quiet and eat." She spread out the meal before them. Breads, cheeses, and meats were made into sandwiches. Apples and grapes came after, and to drink there was a small jug of wine. Dessert was two slices of cake from the previous night.

The two ate in silence before Derek blurted, "I've decided that this is the best way to eat. Simply, in a beautiful place with great company." He flushed a little on the last part, but dared not take back his words.

Cecilia smiled. "Yes, I have to agree," she said, before tossing another piece of meat for Ilario to find.

Settling back into the silence, Cecilia let her mind wander to her earlier discussion with Lord Adrian. He was charming, bold, and quite handsome. He seemed intelligent and considerate and all in all, a marriage to him wouldn't be so terrible. However, there was something… there was something _off _about him.

Cecilia sighed to herself. It wasn't sensible to be so unrealistic about marriage. Cecilia knew that she was not the most eligible of brides considering her childhood. It would be foolish to pass up a marriage arrangement, and especially to a man so eligible and one that she got along with. He was not perfect, that was true, but who was? Perhaps it was not love, but love and politics were two completely different matters and Cecilia hated the fact that her heart protested what her mind knew was right.

Little did she know that she was frowning to herself until Derek asked, "Are you all right? You looked as though you were miles away from here."

Brushing off her thoughts, knowing that this was not the appropriate time to think of such things, Cecilia smiled at him. "Just a little lost in thought. Do not trouble yourself with me. I'm fine." Her marriage worries were not things to be discarded, but Cecilia knew that right then she should enjoy her day and her company.

0 0 0

The month passed quickly. Many, though not all, quests had long gone, including Ana's brother, whom Cecilia had gotten to know quite well.

King Tristàn had taken the throne of Spainne at the age of eighteen, five years prior. Strong, intelligent, and charming, he and Ana had a close friendship. Out of their five siblings, their bond was the one that got the family through their parents' untimely death in a tragic shipping accident. If one held good favor in Ana's eyes, then automatically they held good favor in Tristàn's and vice versa. Tristàn had taken to Cecilia immensely, considering her a dear cousin or sister, and the three friends spent as much time as they could becoming familiar with one another.

During that time it seemed as if Cecilia had seen less and less of Derek and more and more of Lord Adrian. It seemed that Lord Adrian was always near, walking with her, talking with her, flirting and laughing and _hinting_. While she enjoyed his company, Cecilia missed Derek. Because of Adrian, she had no time to go to the library, like she normally did.

In the few times that she _did _encounter Derek, however, were far from pleasant. It was as if he was the exact opposite of who he had been at their secret picnic so long ago. Instead of the carefree, content man, Cecilia was left with a noble who was tense and stiff and formal. Cecilia hated it. When she tried to ask what was wrong, Derek would just shake his head and tell her that it was nothing, that he was fine.

It was the first day of the eighth month and Cecilia bit her lip. Only five more months until Derek's first and twentieth birthday. It made her nervous to think about. She desperately hoped that Derek would be able to find his "True One" before then.

The thought led Cecilia to think about who Derek's True One may be. She would have to be a strong-willed woman, otherwise Derek would be bored of her and not deem her worthy to rule by his side. Intelligence was a must, as the Crown Prince particularly enjoyed engaging in debates of various topics. Due to Derek's infamous mood swings, she would have to be patient. Good lord, would she have to be patient.

After Derek found his True One, Cecilia wasn't quite sure what her role in his life would be. If it at all possible, Cecilia wanted to remain friends, but doubted that Derek's bride would take kindly to that. Even though they argued frequently and didn't always see eye to eye, Cecilia considered Derek one of her best friends, and would hate to lose something so precious to her.

Stilling her thoughts, Cecilia blushed. They were taking a decidedly inappropriate turn, and for that she felt ashamed. She was D—the Crown Prince's friend, nothing more, and it was time she acted like it. Besides, she had more important things to think of, such as escaping from Lord Adrian.

The two were, once again, in the garden, where they walked slowly as Lord Adrian dictated the conversation. Luckily, he was well-versed on a variety of subjects, but Cecilia found herself restless, as she often did while she was in his company. There was something about him that she could not quite put her finger on. It was how he seemed to decide the pace of their walking, the topic of conversation, and even when she could answer.

Suddenly, it came to her. Lord Adrian was, albeit in a subtle manner, controlling. It was so hard to notice, but when it became apparent, it was undeniable.

Cecilia, who had always been a rational, independent creature, felt her blood boil. Trying to calm herself, she reasoned that it was just in his nature, that this attribute was not intentional. However, it was a characteristic that Cecilia felt she could not live with.

Her musings were interrupted when the person in question said, "Crown Princess? Are you quite all right?"

Giving the man at her side a small smile, she replied, "I am fine, sire. Just a bit distracted today. I think I had better—"

Lord Adrian rudely cut her off, saying, "I hate to interrupt, Princess, but there is something that I must do and I cannot hold it in any longer." Cecilia's eyes widened as he bent down on one knee.

"When I first met you, I was instantly captivated by your beauty and charm. When we danced, I had never felt happier. Now as the month has passed and I have gotten to know you more and more, my first suspicions have been confirmed: you are the perfect woman for me. Princess—Cecilia, may I have your hand?"

At this unorthodox proposal, Cecilia blinked. Surely he was jesting… ? The look on his face spoke otherwise and Cecilia's mouth opened, "Milord! We—we hardly know each other! I have not been courted; I barely know anything of yourself."

"That is what marriage is for," Lord Adrian replied smoothly. "And you have been courted; you, my lovely, have just been too naïve to realize it."

"Have you discussed this with my father?"

"I wanted your consent first before I spoke with your father."

As much as Cecilia could appreciate his coming to her first, when it came to a proposal of marriage, she decided that she wanted her father's blessing before she decided to commit to matrimony.

"Lord Adrian," said she, "as much as I am flattered by your proposal, I find it impossible to accept."

Lord Adrian stood back up, looking stunned. Then, his handsome face turned blotchy with anger and humiliation. "I hope you realize, Crown Princess, that you are quite middle-aged when it comes to marrying age and that this will probably be the last offer you shall receive."

Cecilia swallowed, somehow feeling insulted. "While I appreciate the concern, Milord, I can guarantee you that I am in my right mind," she told him stiffly. "Now if you will excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. Good day." With a nod of her head, she strode away, leaving a very temperamental, very dangerous Lord Adrian.

"I gave you a chance, Crown Princess," he hissed once she was out of earshot, "a chance you should have taken. Now you leave me no choice."

Stalking off, the furious lord went in search of a certain Lady Keleigh.

* * *

Last Edited: 4/7/09


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary:** A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

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**Chapter Thirteen **

Thoughts jumbled, Cecilia walked briskly down the hallway, resisting the urge to cross her arms protectively in front of her body.

She had just turned down Lord Adrian. Who, despite his controlling streak, was a flawless man. Besides, compared to other men she may have married, Lord Adrian was quite the catch. So why did she turn him down? Clearly, she wasn't thinking straight…

So lost in her thoughts was she that Cecilia did not even notice Derek coming around the corner. Making a sharp turn around the corner, she and Derek collided, his arms instinctively going around her.

She blinked confusedly up at him. "Oh." She said, a little dazedly. "I did not see you there, Derek. Terribly sorry. Are you all right?"

He frowned at her discombobulated manner. "I think the correct question is are _you _all right? You look odd. Are you unwell?"

Smiling weakly, Cecilia said honestly, "I'm quite fine, thank you. This day has just been a little exhausting."

Derek's brain urged him to flee from her presence, but his heart demanded he stay. She looked as though she needed comfort.

"I have something to show you," he said in his blunt way.

She looked at him, surprise etched across her face. "Really?" Cecilia smiled. "What is it?"

Twisting his mouth into a crooked grin, Derek replied, "I'm afraid I cannot indulge that information, milady. 'Tis a surprise."

Cecilia made a face. "That is not kind! Must you keep it a secret?"

"I am afraid I must," said the prince, amused at her antics. "However, you need not wait long; I will show it to you now, since your day has been… _exhausting._ Come." He gave her his elbow and she slipped her hand into it, letting him lead her down the hallway.

They were in the North wing at that time, where the girls' quarters were. Currently, Derek was steering Cecilia towards the West wing, an area Cecilia hadn't explored yet, leaving her curious as to what he would show her. After climbing the grand staircase, they ventured off into the right corridor, passing various doorways until they reached the end of the hall. Huge, foreboding doors, with gold handles, stood in their way.

For a moment Cecilia just gazed at the door, which had Renaissance art carved into it, full of angels and celestial works. It only hinted at what was to come. "Are you ready to be shown what is _inside _the door?" Derek asked, amused by her reaction to the wooden barriers.

Wide-eyed, Cecilia nodded, unaware of his amusement. Pushing open the doors, Derek saw her eyes light up with wonder and disbelief.

"What is…?"

"This is the library," Derek told her. "Spectacular, is it not?"

And indeed it was. The room was in the shape of a half circle, and, although not particularly large, made up for that fact in the cozy way it was laid out. To the right of the doors, on the same wall, was a large fireplace, just begging to be used during a cold winter's night. A large rug and three cozy looking chairs were nearby. To the right was a huge, curving glass window that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. It overlooked all of Pareis, including the village and the forest. If one squinted, they could even make out what appeared to be a meadow.

To the left of the window were the dozen bookshelves, as large as the window, positively stuffed with books. They curved about the room, and Cecilia could not even imagine how many books the Royal family possessed.

"How many books do you have here?" She breathed in wonder.

"I could be mistaken, but there is the rumor that this library holds every book that has ever been published in Fraanc," Derek replied. Seeing her stunned look, he continued. "Although we do not take as much pride in literature as the Inglish, the Freench do love a good book, and my ancestors produced quite a number of scholars who loved to collect anything literary." Looking at her curiously he asked, "What about you? I assume that your home has a library."

Coming out of her stupor, Cecilia smiled as she thought of her home. "Maybe one day you will see for yourself," she told him.

Derek grinned at the thought. "Yes. Perhaps so." Bemused, he watched his True One languidly explore the library, taking her time to study every minute detail. Upon finding a familiar title, Magical Creatures and the Enchantments that Bind Them, a sudden thought sprung upon Cecilia. "Derek," she said suddenly, turning to face the prince, who stood near the fireplace. "I was wondering… if this is the library, then what is the room that we normally read in?"

The Crown Prince fidgeted a little, as if embarrassed. "That room… is my study."

Processing the information, Cecilia blinked, confused. "Your… study? Why did you say nothing then when you first saw me there?"

"If you remember correctly, I had already made you distraught by being an ass, so I thought it best to say nothing. In time, I enjoyed our daily sessions, so I never thought to bring up the subject."

Frowning, Cecilia recalled another piece of information. "I see. Well, I suppose your mother was confused then, for it was she who directed me where to go."

Derek's twitching remained and his face flamed red. "Erm. Cecilia… I think that my mother's directions were… um. Intentional. I believe she was trying to play matchmaker or some other nonsense."

"Oh," Cecilia could feel her face become warm. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if his mother's plan worked, but felt herself flush harder with the thought. "I see. Well… that hardly surprises me. Your mother is quite the clever woman."

Smiling at the subtle change in conversation, Derek chuckled, feeling the tension ebb away. "Yes, she certainly is," he told her. "At times I feel inadequate sitting next to her."

Cecilia laughed. "It is hard not to," she admitted. "But as for her matchmaking schemes, don't be too hard on her; 'tis natural for your mother to want you to settle down."

For a moment, Derek's face darkened, and in an instant it was gone—but Cecilia caught it all the same. "Oh, Derek," she said, her eyes looking at him in hope, "don't despair. I'm sure that you'll find your True One—I'm _sure _of it."

Instead of a morose frown or something equally melancholy, Derek gave her a mischievous little smile. "It is not a matter of finding her, I think," he told her, "but whether or not she would be willing to have me."

Before Cecilia could inquire more upon the subject, Derek swiftly changed it, commenting on some authors that were quite good and that she simply _had _to read. Shrugging, but not forgetting the conversation, Cecilia stayed silent, but Derek was a silly boy if he thought she was going to let that little comment slip. And to think, with a mother like his, Derek would know not to underestimate women.

0 0 0

_To King Cesario of Italle,_

_Firstly, let me beg pardon for the strangeness of this letter and the unfamiliarity of its sender. I am Lord Adrian Magio of a small region in Spainne. We have never met, but certain circumstances have led me to write this letter, and I respect you too much as a leader and as a man to not inform you of what has been conspiring._

_Last month, I had the pleasure of being invited to Her Honorable Majesty Queen Marguerite of Fraanc's welcoming ball. I attended to support my own princess, Her Royal Highness Crown Princess Ana Maria, who is a guest at Queen Marguerite's court. There, I met and was thrilled to dance with your lovely daughter, Her Royal Highness Crown Princess Cecilia. I also met His Royal Highness Crown Prince Derek of Fraanc. Immediately, my innate senses were uneasy. Although he was cordial, his manner was cold and his nature seemed hostile. _

_Not long after sharing a wonderful dance with your beautiful daughter, I saw the Crown Prince suspiciously exit the ballroom quickly. At first I thought nothing of it other than he was a horrible host, but when I saw Her Royal Highness Crown Princess Cecilia excuse herself , I knew something was amiss._

_However, I convinced myself that I was being paranoid and let her have her privacy. When she did not return, I grew worried, thinking she had done something terribly rash. With that thought in my mind, I left. _

_Although I did not find Princess Cecilia or Prince Derek, I found Lady Keleigh, widow to the late general of the Freench army. She was hysterical and told me all that she had seen:_

_The Crown Prince Derek, who the poor girl is foolishly blinded by love for, saw him leave and wanted to comfort her love. What she saw was horrifying: Prince Derek made a magical transformation—from man to beast. By his side was Cecilia, looking on in fascination._

_Later, he told Cecilia of his curse: All the males in his family were cursed with becoming a wolf due to an Enchantress's curse centuries back. The transformations occur only when the man in question becomes angry and the curse could only be broken by marrying of their soul mates, or True Ones. _

_I feel it necessary to write to you, of all people, because of the Crown Prince and Crown Princess's growing closeness. I believe the Crown Prince to be slowly seducing your daughter—I believe that in his mind, she is his True One. _

_I cannot deny my growing affections for your daughter; because of that and my duty, I beg you to remove her from the Crown Prince's presence. It is the only way to save her. _

_If you do not believe me, I have enclosed the prince's personal book, written specifically on the curse that has been bestowed upon him. I have risked my well being to procure it, so please pay me the courtesy of reading it._

_In a week's time I will be leaving for my native home. If you need any assistance, do not hesitate to contact me._

_Your Humble Servant,_

_Lord Adrian Magio of Spainne _

Re-reading the letter, Adrian felt his smirk grow even wider. He had done a smashing job, if he did say so himself. Granted, it was a risk with so many lies entangling each other, but with the lady Keleigh's cooperation, there would be no way to prove that his letter was anything but the truth.

Glancing up at the moon, Adrian could feel himself become irritated. He and the said lady were supposed to rendevouz in the garden, ironically enough, near the exact spot where he proposed to Princess Cecilia. Trying to shake the memory from his mind, Adrian raked his hands through his silky gold hair.

"I have not kept you long, I hope?"

Plastering on a pleasant visage, Adrian smiled. "No, of course not. I was just… admiring the light of the moon. Now. Onto business. Do you have the necessary item?"

Looking around, Keleigh reached into her cloak and pulled out a worn, little book. "I found it."

Eyes glinting greedily, Adrian took it, flipping through it and marveling. "If you do not mind me inquiring, how?"

Keleigh shrugged. "Twas very easy. Prince Derek is a very busy man and his chambers were not hard to find." Slyly, Adrian thought that Keleigh was no novice when it came to searching for a man's chambers.

"From your message," Keleigh said, referring to a note that Adrian had slipped to her earlier that week, "you said that our alibi has been altered slightly. May I see it?"

Absorbed in the book, Adrian wordlessly handed over the letter. For the next few minutes, the two read in silence. Keleigh's eyebrows would raise every few sentences, her conniving soul impressed. Sometimes she would glance over at Adrian, who was chuckling of all things. Once, he muttered, "Oh, that's brilliant. I never knew how vindictive she could be…"

"Who?" Keleigh picked up, alert.

Realizing his error, Adrian shook his head quickly. "Just thinking aloud," he said.

Keleigh wisely said nothing, but her ears were ready for more murmurings from the handsome man.

When both were finished, Adrian took the letter from her again and tucked it into his coat pocket. "I trust that your questions about our alibi are answered?"

The sly woman nodded. "Yes. Although there is something I wanted to discuss with you..."

Adrian said nothing, merely narrowed his eyes at her. What did that insufferable woman want now?

"I have done you a great service by providing damning evidence against Prince Derek so that you may win the heart of the Princess," Keleigh said. "Now how are you going to help me in my quest to become Fraanc's next queen?"

Adrian laughed lowly. "What makes you so sure I'd help you?" He told her. "I plan on conquering Fraanc anyway, so there will be no monarchy when I'm through with it."

Keleigh stood up from the bench, outraged. "We had a deal!" She screamed at him, her eyes flashing. "It would be unwise for you to go back on your word now, my Lord. You still need me as a witness of Derek's transformations."

"I have no such need," Adrian informed her. "Cesario will be so outraged that he will not question the validity. And besides," he held up the book. "This is all the evidence we need. So if you will excuse me, my Lady, I have no need of your services any longer."

"I will go warn Derek," Keleigh snarled, her eyes lighting up deviously. "And then he shall be grateful to me for my services! Yes, yes, that is what I shall do..." she trailed off, her expression desperate and almost crazed. She took no notice of the dark energy ball sitting atop Adrian's hand. When she turned towards him, a smug smirk on her lips, Adrian shoved the energy ball into her chest, watching it electrocute her. Her body convulsed, her eyes rolled in to the back of her head and her mouth opened in a silent scream. Keleigh died almost instantly. Adrian then set her aflame, depositing her ashy remains under the bench, strolling away as if nothing had happened.

"Great," he muttered. "Now I have to find a way for Lady Keleigh to 'leave' the castle without anyone suspecting her death. I don't have time for this."

Above him, the stars twinkled, privy to all of the night's secrets.

0 0 0

"Ah, Your Majesty. So good to see you." All twelve members of The Council, upon seeing their ruler, promptly rose and bowed.

"Likewise, gentlemen." Queen Marguerite nodded regally, indicating that they may be seated. The men took the hint and the meeting commenced.

Once arrangements had been taken care of, the twelve men stayed in the shadows of the operation, not even daring to meet the young women. Derek wanted as little interference as possible from the men, and the men meekly followed orders.

But now they were becoming anxious and requested a meeting with Her Majesty to find out what they needed to know.

"To be blunt, we would like to know Derek's progress with the young ladies," Franklin, who was head of the meeting, said.

"Quite well, I think," Queen Marguerite said. "I have Priscilla checking on him and he seems to be quite good friends with Princess Cecilia."

"Really," smiled Franklin, pleased that the girl he defended was catching his prince's eye. "Is there real hope then, that she could be The One?"

All immortal Councilmen were listening eagerly at that point; The Curse affected them and their families as well; they could not age or die until it was broken. Although none of the men savored the thought of death, if The Curse was broken, there would be hope for their children to experience life and growth.

"I think so," Marguerite said calmly. "There's always hope. I think that Derek is in love with her. Whether or not she is in love with him… I am unsure."

The men seemed to deflate, but Franklin's eyes shone with determination. "I see. Well. I remember seeing the two at the ball, and they did look quite comfortable together… can't imagine why I didn't see it before. Is that not the night the prince transformed after all?"

"Yes, it was," Marguerite admitted. "It was so strange, too. That was the first time he transformed since the girls came here. He seemed entirely unprovoked."

"So His Highness never told you why he…?"

"No. He's been quite closed off lately, although he has not been prone to his usual moodiness. He just seems... pensive."

"He must be in love," declared Franklin. "All young men tend to be quite odd when first experiencing the pangs of first love."

"This cannot be first love though," another man spoke up, shaking his head. "It must be True Love."

An image of the two dancing together fastened in her mind, Queen Marguerite softly smiled. "And perhaps it is," she said. "Perhaps it is."

0 0 0

A few hours earlier Cecilia sat on the windowsill of her room, watching a lone figure and his horse begin their long travel home in the sprinkling rain. Something did not feel right then and perching on the sill again, Cecilia knew it for sure.

Something was amiss.

Ever since she refused Adrian's proposal, he kept his distance, as Cecilia expected he would. However, Cecilia did not realize that he would be so rude as to leave without saying good-bye. So as he and his prized white stallion rode off into the distance, silently Cecilia wished him well and said her farewells from her spot at the window.

Now that the sun was teasing the people on earth with beams of light every so often, Derek and Ilario were prancing about in the gardens, enjoying the good weather.

Frowning slightly, Cecilia knew that something was bothering Derek. Besides the time he showed her the library, he was distant with her. He hardly fought with her, never really _spoke _to her, and was fidgety and nervous. They never spent time in his den anymore. Although Cecilia adored the library, the study seemed more personal to her… it's small room more cozy and intimate.

A sudden realization shook her. Perhaps that's why Derek was hardly in her presence; he had found his True One and wished to distance himself from her. After all, it was quite improper to be friends with a woman who was not your significant other.

It made Cecilia's heart ache at the thought of not being able to be friends with Derek any longer, but logically she told herself that it was meant to happen, that she should have expected and better prepared herself for it.

Giving the young man below her a sad smile, she turned away from the window and began the trek to her solace, the library.

Little did she suspect that someone was gazing intently at her as she turned away, dark eyes full of quiet longing. "Should I go after her, pup?" He inquired of his companion, never taking his eyes off the empty window.

As if he could understand his alpha, the little dog gave an enthusiastic, squeaky "woof" in reply.

Smiling slightly, Derek turned back to look at Ilario. "Is that a yes?" He responded. Ilario barked again. "If you say so," he said, amused.

After leaving the young pup in the kitchens with Priscilla, Derek proceeded to the library. Maybe he wouldn't tell her his feelings, but he at least needed to mend their somewhat strained friendship before he lost her completely.

Derek hated that he had to avoid Cecilia. At first it was because of that blasted Lord Adrian. Everywhere Cecilia was, Lord Adrian seemed to follow. And Derek knew that if he spent more time with that damn man than he had to, Lord Adrian would come face to face with Derek in his wolf form, and lord knew he didn't want _that _situation to ever arise. Against his better judgment, he kept his distance. He knew he shouldn't; what if that man proposed and Cecilia accepted? It was during those several days where Derek lapsed back into his bitter, depressed moods, startling everyone who had just become accustomed to the smiling, kind young man they had seen as of late.

But when Cecilia refused Lord Adrian's proposal, Derek was elated. However, soon his feelings of love and marriage turned to confusion. Should he tell her? Should he not? All he could think about when he was with her was confessing his love, and it was too hard to pretend like everything was normal when he was waging an internal war with himself.

But this had gone on long enough; he had to seek her out. He had to try and mend the distance that had grown between them in the last month. Derek decided not to tell her of his feelings quite yet- the timing wasn't right- but he would find a plausible excuse for avoiding her... hopefully.

Opening the large doors to the library, Derek was pleased to find Cecilia perched in a large chair, book in lap. But upon taking in the expression on the princess's face, he frowned. She seemed to be gazing blankly into the fire, her only movement the twirling of a lock of hair 'round her fingertips.

"Cecily?"

She started, whipping her head to look at the intruder. Upon seeing it was him, she blushed furiously and shut the book hastily, standing and doing a small curtsey. "Prince Derek," she said, her cheeks still pink. "I had not… I did not expect to see you until supper."

Sadly, this was true. The only time they had regularly seen each other was during a meal, an affair that had become even more uncomfortable as of late.

Derek cleared his throat. "I… I came to apologize. Things have been quite awkward between us and it is my fault. Since the ball… since the ball, I've been doing a great deal of thinking."

Cecilia braced herself, waiting for the excuse he was going to give her; how he found his True One and they could no longer be friends.

What she did not prepare for was that Derek too seemed to be bracing himself. His shoulders stiffened and he closed his eyes, opening his mouth to say—

Suddenly, his mouth closed. His eyes opened and they were sharp and clear. "Someone's coming," he said, his voice low. "And I dislike the possibility that someone could overhear us. Would you accompany me to my study?"

Cecilia nodded. What else was there to say?

An hour later, safe in his study, sat Cecilia and Derek by the fire. Or rather, just Cecilia. Derek was busy pacing about the room, damning himself for losing his control in front of her.

Cecilia, not one for doing nothing, said not unkindly, "Derek, whatever it is you have to tell me, I can handle it. I am not a child and will not break down in tears at your news."

Good Lord, he hoped she wouldn't.

Caught off guard, Derek stopped, breathing heavily, and once again, tensed up. To his credit, when he spoke, he looked her straight in the eyes.

"The truth of the matter is," he told her, scrambling for something to say, anything, anything but—

"I love you."

Cecilia stared at him. Derek, though wanting to kick himself for admitting his feelings, stared back anyway, unflinching, praying the desperation and the fear and the hope in him were not so obvious to her eyes.

She could scarcely breathe, scarcely think. She was terrified and excited and words, straight from her heart, kept bubbling up in her throat. Pushing them back down, she tried to calm her heart and answer the thought that ran through her mind: _What does this mean? What does this mean? _Quickly following was the most important question of them all: _Does this mean I am…? _

"Derek—"

A banging on his door ceased her awed response. "Your Highness! Your Highness!" Bursting in the door was Priscilla, hair frazzled and breathing deep and labored. "Priscilla?" Derek frowned, too concerned at her appearance to be terribly angry.

"It's your father, Princess," she said, ignoring Derek completely and focusing solely on Cecilia. "He has just arrived. And he is demanding you go to him."

* * *

Last Edited: 6/29/10


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary: **A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

0 0 0

**Chapter Fourteen**

Storming his way into the palace, a flushed Cesario came, dragging his younger daughter Isobella behind him. "Marguerite!" He roared, throwing decorum and general etiquette to the wind.

From wherever she was, she could hear him, as she rushed hurriedly down the staircase. "Cesario?" She questioned, her heart telling her that something was terribly, terribly, wrong. "Cesario, whatever is the matter? What in the heavens are you doing here?"

"How could you not tell me?" He said, his voice now soft and deadly.

"Tell you what?" Marguerite asked, completely bewildered.

"How could you not tell me that your son is a _monster_?" His words, accentuated and coldly concise, made Marguerite pale.

Seeing her reaction, his eyes narrowed. "So it's true," Cesario breathed, horrified. "It's true that my daughter has been living for _months _with such a person! I—I—**CECILIA**!"

"She cannot hear you," admonished Marguerite once she regained her voice. "And do keep it down. I will have a maid send for her." Her eyes found Priscilla's and the woman scurried away, eyes wide with fear.

"Marguerite," croaked Cesario, choking on his rage, "I suggest you explain things to me _now_."

Torn between keeping her business her own and setting things right with her old friend, Marguerite sighed. Perhaps if he knew, he would cause less of a ruckus about it. "Come with me," she said quietly, and smiled gently at the bewildered young Isobella that accompanied her father.

She led Cesario to an old meeting room and sat him down. "Many generations ago, the family was put under a curse where the men in the family would transform into wolves when they lost their temper. As Derek is a male in the family, he automatically has the curse. But he always retains his sanity and humanity when in this form and has harmed no one. Cecilia has always been safe."

"Safe?" Snarled Cesario. "_Safe?_ Safe when my first impression of him as a ruler is when he threatened me, threatened my family? That monster needs to be restrained! Sent away to somewhere remote where he cannot harm anyone!"

"He is my son!" Marguerite stood up defiantly. "If this was Cecilia, would you just 'send her away'? I think not!"

Cesario, though, was far past reason. "That's irrelevant!" He snapped. "The issue at hand is that it is Derek who is a wolf-man, not my daughter. And I refuse to have her spend another minute here." He licked his lips, making a decision. "And I don't think any other parent would allow the same. That is why I have contacted all of the other countries."

Fear and anger swirling within her, Marguerite lashed out. "How dare you! You had no right! No one in this family has hurt anyone, in wolf form or no! You had no grounds to give that information to anyone!"

"I think that the families deserve to know the conditions their daughters have been living in!" Argued Cesario. "And now that I know, Cecilia will be coming with me and I will make sure that your werewolf son will not roam the earth as he has been doing for the past twenty years of his life."

"Stop doing this!" Snapped Marguerite. "This is all because of pride, isn't it? Pride that my son forced you to send Cecilia here! I know that he was rude when demanding Cecilia's presence, I understand that, but taking his life is not a fair vengeance."

"Fair?" Laughed Cesario bitterly. "Since when has life ever been fair? Since it took my wife? Your husband? Created a horrendous war? Life has never been fair. And I'm sure that the other monarchs will agree with me on that. Make no mistake about it, Marguerite, one way or another, your son will pay for his ways."

They stood for a moment, before they could hear the whisper of "No." Whirling around, Cesario saw Derek and Cecilia, standing in the doorway. Cecilia's eyes were wide and disbelieving; Derek's were narrowed and full of fire. To his credit, Derek stood proud and regal, his shoulders tense and his knuckles tight. Cesario was horrified to see Cecilia notice this, and tearing her eyes off her father, put a soothing hand on Derek's, easing his clenched fingers apart. She whispered something to him, and Cesario snapped out of his trance, growling, "Cecilia, get away from him!"

Both Derek and Cecilia jumped, but she did not release her hold on him. "Father, what are you doing?" she demanded. "Planning Derek's death?"

"Something needs to be done about him," Cesario bit out, not in the least bit fazed that Derek was in the room.

Cecilia looked horrified. "Father, _no_. Didn't I tell you? Derek is not a—"

Remembering where he heard that statement before, Cesario's eyes grew large, piecing together another piece of the puzzle. _He is not the monster you keep insisting that he is_. "You knew?" He asked, "You _knew _and didn't tell me?"

Evidently this was news to Marguerite as well, as she asked dumbly, "You knew?"

Not feeling the least bit guilty, Cecilia replied, "Yes, I've known." Glancing at Derek for support, she admitted, "Since the ball."

In all honesty, when Cecilia found out about Derek's condition, she never even considered telling anyone. As far as she was concerned, it was Derek's business, and if he wished to tell anyone, it was his prerogative, not hers.

"You are a traitor," her father hissed, beyond rage. "A traitor to your country, to your liege, and most importantly, to your father."

"Papa, no!" came a small voice. Running out from behind her father where she had been hiding for the duration of the argument, young Princess Isobella leapt to her sister. "Cecy could never betray us!"

"Isobella!" cried Cecilia in delight, hugging her sister. "Oh, Issy, how I've missed you!"

"And I've missed you!" said her sister. "Cecy, Papa can't be right. I know that you would never betray us." Turning to the man beside her sister, the room was silent as she scrutinized him. "Papa was wrong," she finally announced, completely sure of the words that tumbled from her mouth. "The prince isn't a monster. And if he was, he would never hurt Cecy. He loves her too much."

The simple statement seemed to tear the room apart. Cesario would not stand for this. "Love?" he scoffed. "A beast does not know how to love. And even if he does love her, there is no way that his feelings are returned." He waited for Cecilia's agreement but all he found was a bowed head. "Do not tell me that his feelings are returned." This was clearly made as a statement.

Swallowing, Cecilia began, "Father—"

Turning his head, Cesario swore. "No, no I refuse to believe it! This—this" he turned, pointing a finger at Derek. "This is all of your fault! If you had never demanded Cecilia, if you had never—"

"With all due respect, sir," Derek said softly, and Cecilia could see that same glint in his eyes, could hear the same tone in his voice that he used with her when she first arrived. Although his words were respectful, they hinted at mockery and wit, a dangerous and careless combination. "That statement is irrelevant. The issue at hand that Cecilia has been here for the past few months and that I _have _fallen in love with her. And I refuse to stand here for another minute and let you insult my mother, my kingdom, and myself."

Having his own words thrown back at him only seemed to anger Cesario more. "How dare you," he hissed, "you selfish, stupid boy. How do you think I could ever consent to marriage between you and my daughter?"

"She is my True One," Derek said, the plain words shocking everyone in the room. "With my love—" here his voice cracked, just slightly, "_our _love, my spell can be broken. I—I will no longer be a wolf man."

"Do me a favor, Prince Derek, and ask yourself if I care in the slightest about your predicament," snarled Cesario, not fazed in the least by this information. "I am done with this place. Isobella, come here." The young girl, scared but obedient, ran behind her father once again. "I will leave you to face the other monarchs. Come, Cecilia. Get your things."

"No," Cecilia said. "I refuse to leave. My business here is not finished and neither is yours. We can work this out. We can come to an agreement peacefully. Stop making this complicated."

"Complicated!" Cesario's laugh was bitter and echoed around the large room. "You, daughter, made things complicated the moment you discovered who he was and neglected to tell me. Your prince made things complicated the moment he demanded your presence here. If anything, I am only making things easy. Now pack your bags." With a jerk of his head, he motioned to three guards, who stepped forward, prepared to "escort" Cecilia to her room.

"That is against the policy of the nations," cried Marguerite. "You have no right to use your guards in foreign lands unless attacked."

"I am being attacked, just not physically," sneered Cesario. "And I am not retaliating against anyone but my own," he directed this towards Cecilia.

"Father," Cecilia felt weary and heartbroken. She did not understand why her father was acting this way. She did not consider her father to be so prideful, so bitter and out for revenge. Why, why would he shatter her world without even considering what she wanted, what made her happy?

Glancing at the man beside her, she knew that Derek made her happy, made her complete. When she heard him announce her as his True One, her initial reaction was shock, but at the same time, she could not deny it. His words rang true and they felt right as she said them silently on her tongue. She was His True One, just as he was Hers.

And now they were being separated.

Derek, attune to Cecilia's aura, leaned over and whispered as their parents began to argue again, "Go to your room. I will send Priscilla up when I can. Wait there for her and whatever you do, do not leave the room. Make up excuses, requests, anything, but do not leave. I will find you."

He gave her a small, sad smile at the question in her eyes. "_I will be fine_."

"I cannot sit by in my room and know that my father wants to tear you to pieces," Cecilia said, hating that this was not even an exaggerated statement.

"As much as I want to have you here, I think that by disobeying him will further increase his fury. As we do not know yet what exactly he has planned, we must be on the defense."

A little surprised by his technical language, she nodded, knowing he was right. "All right then." Giving his hand a last squeeze, she dropped it, going to the guards. "I am ready to be escorted to my chambers," she told the guards, trying to look innocent and saddened.

Although the guards knew of Cecilia, knew her disposition and her intelligence, they assumed that in her infatuation, she had forgotten her loyalty to her father and did not mean any intentional harm. They did not realize that Cecilia was not giving up her love so easily, and would not hesitate to exploit their ignorance on her love.

"Cecy," cried Isobella, and ran to her, grabbing her hand. She was surprised her father did not restrain her, but Cecilia was glad for this support.

Her father, satisfied for the moment that she was listening, gave her a smug, albeit warning look, and his eyes rounded on Derek. Just as the doors closed behind her, Cecilia could hear the threats begin. And with that, so did her tears.

0 0 0

She waited and waited in her room, pacing, absentmindedly putting her traveling luggage on her bed, throwing random objects in, not really believing she would leave.

In her room, Issy took great delight in discovering and making a friend out of Ilario, who was quite enthusiastic about having another playmate, with the same wistful and innocent temperament as himself!

Grateful, Cecilia left them to it. As much as she loved her younger sister, she did not have the patience to answer any other questions she may have about her stay here.

Thoughts jumbled through her brain, driving her crazy with questions that she had no answers to.

_How did Father find out? How is he treating Derek? Is Derek fighting back? Oh, please, oh please, he cannot transform in front of Father, that would only make things worse. Is Queen Marguerite furious? Oh, I know she must be… and what of the other girls? Where are they? How much do they know? How much does Ana know? She must be terribly cross with me, with how much I've been keeping to myself. But t'isn't anyone's business but my own, isn't it? If only Father would understand!_

Throwing herself onto the bed, Cecilia pressed the palms for her hands into her eyes. She could not cry now, not again. It was mortifying enough that her sister and the guards saw, but crying never did anyone any good and although it made her feel better, it wouldn't help alleviate the situation.

Feeling two little arms slip about her, Cecilia took her hands away and saw her younger sister, Ilario by her side. "Everything will be all right, Cecy," Isobella whispered. "Father is angry, but he will be happy again. He does not like to see you in pain."

Swallowing, Cecilia bit her lip, anxious, terrified. "I hope so, Issy," she told her younger sister. "I hope he realizes that what he is doing now is paining myself and the family of his best friend."

At her sister's solemn tone, Isobella fell silent, instinctively knowing that there was more than a misunderstanding here.

The next quarter of an hour was spent waiting in silence, and finally, _finally_, she heard the familiar click-clack of Priscilla's heels. "I'm here to give the princess her clothing," she said. "This is the latest stack of her laundry."

"I'm sorry, _signora_," one of the guards said. "We are under strict orders not to let any servant in this palace near the princess."

"Well then," Priscilla huffed, exasperated. Cecilia could hear the faint rustling of clothing. Did she…? "You can give it to her yourselves" Cecilia and Isobella started to giggle at the absurdity of the situation; Priscilla had just given the strong, weapon-bearing guards her undergarments! And with her day going the way it had been, Cecilia could not find it in herself to be mortified.

Had it only been one day? _Not only has Derek declared his love for me, but my father and sister have traveled to Fraanc to confront Derek, and now I am locked in my chamber, like a damsel in distress…_ Cecilia sighed. She felt emotionally and mentally weary, and on top of that she didn't know how Derek was to reach her now, if Priscilla wasn't allowed in.

To her surprise, she could hear more voices, another female. "Pardon me? What are you doing in front of Princess Cecilia's doors?"

"We are guards of her father, Your Highness."

"Her father? I did not realize he had come to Fraanc. Is something wrong?"

"There has been… a misunderstanding between the countries. It is nothing."

"Oh, I hope you are right. But if I may good sirs, may I visit the princess? We were supposed to meet for tea, and I am to lend her a book."

"Well…" the guards were probably conferencing with each other. "The king did not say we couldn't allow fellow monarchs in… as long as you keep the visit short, I do not see it as a problem."

"Oh, _gracias_. I knew you would be understanding!"

The door opened, and in walked Ana. "Cecy!" She cried as soon as the door closed, and then immediately lowered her voice. "Oh, Cecy, Miss Priscilla told me everything! Oh, is there anything I can do to help?"

Breaking out in a relieved smile, Cecilia said, "You are not mad I didn't tell you?"

Ana shook her head. "I understand. Honestly, I probably would have done the same in your situation. Besides, it was not your secret to tell. But being Derek's True One! You sly thing, I know I may have been a bit smug—I knew you two were perfect for each other— but you needn't have kept _that_ from me!"

"Believe me, I would have told you. I just found out myself today."

"He confessed his love? How romantic! But your father isn't so enthusiastic about the news?" Ana was ecstatic.

"That would be an understatement, I think," Cecilia replied wearily. "And Derek was supposed to give me a message through Priscilla; but the guards won't let her in!"

Ana's eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief and Cecilia wondered how she could have missed the signs. "Why do you think I'm here? Silly girl; I thought you would have known when I made up the lie about us having tea together."

Cecilia smiled excitedly. "Oh, good, I was getting so worried!"

"Well, the message was---" Ana stopped, seeing Isobella listening intently to every word. "Now, who is this?"

"Oh!" Cecilia blinked. "This is my younger sister, Issy. Issy, this is my good friend, Ana."

Isobella, shy, murmured "Hello."

In return, Ana gave her a radiant smile. "Oh, it's a pleasure to meet you! You _must_ keep me company while Cecy goes off to have an illicit meeting with her love."

Cecilia stared. "What do you mean?"

"The message is from Derek to have you meet him in his study. His study! While you go, I will stay here with your darling sister and we will pretend to help you pack."

Blinking confusedly, Cecilia frowned. "I don't understand; how exactly am I supposed to meet Derek in the study if I am not allowed to get out of my room?"

Ana gave her another impish smile. "Through a secret passage, of course! Don't tell me your home doesn't possess any."

Cecilia blinked. "Of course it does, but I mean… there's a secret passage in this room?"

"Precisely," Ana said. "When I was talking to Miss Priscilla, I managed to get the whole story. Queen Marguerite did more matchmaking than you thought she did."

Cecilia was confused. "What do you mean?"

"You have this room for a reason," replied her friend. "When Queen Marguerite was brought here before her wedding, she had this room. Marguerite, also another sly girl, grew restless and found the secret passage. She roamed the castle and stumbled upon Maxwil in his study. That is how their relationship began. Perhaps Marguerite knew that there was a chance you would not use or discover the secret passage, but hoped all the same that you _would_. And look, now you are!"

Taking in the information, Cecilia couldn't believe it. "Queen Marguerite is really something, isn't she?"

"One of the best queens of the century, that much is certain," agreed Ana. "But enough of that. We need to get you to your prince!"

0 0 0

The secret passage itself ended up being in, of all things, the bathing rooms. Near the bath was a small closet, filled with towels and robes. On the bottom of the closet was a round rug, and beneath that was a trapdoor.

"Good heavens," exclaimed Cecilia once Ana told her where it was. "What an odd place to put a secret passage! I wonder how the queen discovered it."

Ana shrugged, handing Cecilia a fire-lit lantern. "How she found it now is unimportant. We're running out of time! Don't make excuses-- you look positively stunning, he'll want to ravish you on the spot. What are you waiting for? Go, go!"

Rolling her eyes at Ana's impatience, Cecilia complied after giving her young sister a kiss on the cheek.

The passage was, as expected, dreary, with a muggy, misty quality of air. The damp passageway was narrow, and the steps were clearly ancient. Even though she knew that she shouldn't move in such a dilatory fashion, she couldn't help but hesitate after ever step, checking to make sure its weight held.

Thankfully, the stairs eventually ended, and she seemed to be in an area that was covered entirely with cobblestone. The only sound that followed her was the clickety clack of her shoes and Cecilia concentrated on that sound to keep her from becoming hysterical. Fortunately, the tunnel went in only one direction, and didn't branch off anywhere, so she didn't have to worry about getting lost.

Finally, _finally, _the hallway stopped abruptly. Cecilia was now faced with what appeared to be the back of… a cloth?

Tentatively, Cecilia lifted the edge of the cloth. It didn't take much effort for it to swing open, revealing the study, and a pacing Derek. He stopped abruptly upon seeing her.

Cecilia licked her lips wordlessly. Now that she was here, she didn't quite know what to say. Walking out of the tunnel, she lowered the tapestry. To her surprise, it was the same tapestry that she noticed the night Derek transformed.

The man's eyes were still as unforgiving as ever, but Cecilia noted that the wolf's eyes seemed more at calm, more at peace, and almost human.

Turning her attention back to Derek, she saw him watching her intently. Flushing a little, Cecilia didn't know why she was tongue tied now. Granted, they were, for lack of a better term, Soul Mates, but that shouldn't have changed much. How were they ever going to get anywhere if both of them stood, merely looking at each other?

Gathering her voice, Cecilia asked, "How did you manage to get away?"

Clearly, this was not a question Derek was expecting. Blinking a little confusedly, he cleared his throat and answered, "My mother, actually, was the one who sent me away. Apparently my presence was only making your father more agitated. I sensed that was best and made a hasty exit." He fell silent, and seemed to be contemplating what to say next. Cecilia did not make any moves to say more, silently waiting.

"What are you thinking?" He asked her, quietly. "There are so many things I want to say right now, but I don't want to say or assume anything until I know how _you _feel. Your father," here he swallowed slightly, "implied some aspects about our relationship, and I want—I want to know what exactly we mean to each other."

"I'm unsure as to how to begin," Cecilia sighed. "I don't know what you want me to say, or what needs to be said, or what shouldn't be. What do you want me to say?"

Derek laughed suddenly, briefly and loudly. "This is a surprise," he smiled, and the tension was broken. "I can't ever recall either of us not knowing what to say, or being considerate enough that we ask what the other wants to hear."

Cecilia smiled as well. "Too true," she said, then turned away from him, walking casually towards the fireplace that burned with vitality. "But honestly? I was… I wasn't expecting you to tell me you loved me. That I was—am—your True One. And then my father coming, I haven't had much time to process everything." Abruptly she turned back to face her prince, the embers causing her silhouette to glow and her eyes to become amber liquid. "But I acknowledge that I am your True One… and I accept it. Actually," she said, her smile blooming at the sight of his dark, sad eyes becoming so clear and bright and hopeful. "This arrangement works out quite nicely for me."

"It does?" Derek inquired, a dark eyebrow rising mischievously. "And why is that, Princess?"

She said nothing, walking to him boldly, and then stopping. Her bravery promptly failing, she flushed and looked to the ground. Cecilia was silent a moment before the words escaped her lips. "Because I love you," she whispered.

"Truly?" He murmured, his hands tentatively coming up to brush back tendrils of hair and cupping her face.

Cecilia groaned at his unintentional pun. "I am your _True_ One," she smiled teasingly at him. "Of course I mean it."

He grinned and Cecilia reveled in him being so happy. He radiated a joy she had never seen.

As the tender moment faded, both noticed their close proximity. Cecilia felt her entire body flush and knew Derek was feeling the same. "May I?" He whispered, his voice hoarse. "Please?" His questions had no room for misinterpretation.

A tentative, shy nod was her answer and their lips were slow in meeting. But when they did, like any fairytale kiss, it was pure magic. Soft, sweet, and lovely, it was not only a bonding of lips, but a fusing of two souls, meant and made for each other.

Gradually the sweetness transitioned into passion, Derek's inner animal showing hints of itself through his kiss. Teeth and tongue nipped at her lips and Cecilia, beckoned with blood burning like liquid molten, could only respond with the same kind of enthusiasm.

Even wolves needed their oxygen, and it was only then that their kiss was broken. The aftermath was slightly embarrassing for Cecilia—so that was what it was like to lose control—but nothing was said as they cuddled by the fire, as they hoped to do for many nights to come.

The fates had other plans for the two, however. It was a good thing that the kiss was so memorable, because that was Derek and Cecilia's last time alone for a very long time to come.

* * *

Last Edited: 2/16/09


	16. Chapter Fifteen : Part One

**Summary: **A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

0 0 0

**Chapter Fifteen: Part One**

It was quiet.

With all of the commotion earlier—the shouting, the betrayals, the scheming, the promises—Cecilia wasn't sure if she liked the alien concept of silence. Lying on her bed, Cecilia's mind ran rampant even though her body was exhausted.

The night was warm, murky, a perfect summer night for love. Tall, busy trees swayed gently to the night wind as the frogs and crickets alike chirped and grunted, longing for their loved ones. Although the night was full of heavy dark clouds, it could not fully conceal the golden summer moon and her stars that twinkled teasingly through spots of clear sky. If she stood at her window Cecilia could make out the faint lanterns swinging in windows, gently being blown out one by one by its owners, preparing to slumber just as she. But Cecilia was not at her majestic balcony; instead she lay upon of her satin sheets with her window open, lest a small breeze make its way into her room. Her room was stuffy, the air constricting and squeezing on her lungs. There were times when she missed the crisp feel of winter.

A shift to her side indicated that Ilario wasn't sleeping well either. He was more accustomed to cooler climates, and although his winter coat was gone, the thick fur was still uncomfortable to him. Usually, he slept on the floor, but Cecilia wanted comfort and companionship—it would be unfathomable to try and find Derek at that time of night.

_Derek. _Although the thought of him brought a smile to her face, Cecilia still couldn't help but worry about their situation. She hoped that her father would come to his senses, but the chances were slim. Her father was, above all, a stubborn man, and it seemed that both he and Derek had their pride in common.

And amongst it all, the curse still remained unbroken. Derek had told her that although they had declared their love for each other, only when they wed in the presence of the enchantress who administered the curse would he become a true man.

After that they spent another hour conversing, their interactions natural and free of the awkwardness of the past. Finally, Cecilia knew that it was unfair to keep her sister and Ana waiting for so long, and she managed to slip from Derek's arms and back into the passageway.

Her thoughts settling down, the lids of her eyes beginning to droop, Cecilia found herself drifting off to sleep, never hearing the far off clatter of horse hooves creeping closer and closer to the castle.

Like Cecilia, Derek found himself unable to sleep. His mind spun and he felt overwhelmed with his own thoughts. The room he was in seemed claustrophobic—how could they house its owner, with thoughts and dreams that seemed bigger than the world could possibly handle?

After months—no, _years _of waiting for her, Cecilia was finally his. It made him grin, and a burden lifted off his shoulders. However, Derek knew that the battle for his freedom was hardly over. Although he felt that Cesario was a big dilemma, Derek knew that their problems dove deeper than that.

What really bothered him was who told Cesario about his secret? It was evident from the king's fury that Cecilia hadn't mentioned it. And if she hadn't told her father, then it was obvious the other princesses had no idea as well. The servants were magically bound to keep quiet. So who could it have been?

Before Derek could ponder the matter further, Priscilla's voice could be heard beyond his door. "Your Highness?"

Her voice was tinged with a panic that made Derek sit up in his bed immediately. "Priscilla?"

"Come quick, Derek!" Came the frantic whisper. "Oh—I did not realize it would come to this!"

"To what?" Derek asked sharply, filled with fear.

"They're here, Derek! All of them!"

"All of what?"

"The other nations—our neighbors. It seems as if all of the continent is here!"

0 0 0

Marguerite, with little time to spare, hastily shouted orders at the servants to prepare more guest rooms. More food was to be made and the main room used for political discussions was to be aired out immediately.

The room itself was relatively small in comparison to the throne room and dining room. At first glance the room was ordinary, but at closer glance one could see that the walls were not smooth, large slab of stone but of small squares of cobblestone. History oozed from every crevice; supposedly the castle was built around the room. Originally it was made as a single room as a way to have safe lodgings and political meetings away from the potentially prying eyes of hidden enemies. Later on it was decided that a fortress was needed and the remainder of the castle was built around the room. Various tapestries depicting the castle's history draped the stone, windowless walls, omitting the more violent aspects of the royal family's past. The room itself was rarely used, and the only furniture within it was a large, rectangular, stone table with wooden chairs flanking it on all sides. The table itself was something of a family heirloom; legend had it that the first ruling monarchs of Fraanc had made it centuries before (although it was first used as a dining table, people liked to conveniently forget that fact.)

Marguerite made good use of her half hour and when she finished, the monarchs of the continent rained down upon her. In hindsight, Marguerite would later reflect that the various rulers assembled in a manner that was eerily similar to their daughters.

Heidi bore a strong resemblance to her father, King Emil, whose stern visage could intimidate any parliament, foreign or otherwise. He had come with a few advisors but otherwise left his other children and his wife, the Queen Adala, at home in Germaine.

He strode in confidently, majestic red cape billowing, his advisors scurrying behind him. "Marguerite!" He barked, decorum clearly a foreign subject. "I have heard tales, my Freench ally, and I want them to be explained immediately!"

Despite his brisk and intimidating manner, Marguerite knew from experience that the Germin king's bark was worse than his bite and she calmly replied, "Emil, I suggest we wait until all of the rulers arrive, then I would only have to explain this in one breath."

Grumbling to himself, Emil made no reply towards her and dropped himself into a seat, barking at his advisors periodically.

Glad that the worst seemed to be over for the moment, Marguerite braced herself for the two Welsh monarchs coming towards her.

King Uilliam, or Liam, of Eyerlin had his daughter's striking eyes, which were filled with a confidence and kindness that made Marguerite more comfortable. He gave her a small smile. "I know_ I'll_ behave, Maggie, but I canna speak for that one," he said before he sat down quietly, motioning to the imposing figure behind him.

Scoughtlyn's queen, Riannon, walked like a man and Marguerite saw Tessa in every physical way, from her chestnut hair to the sway of her hips. Her unusual attire consisted of a man's tunic, leggings, and boots. Marguerite supposed that by looking a man, Riannon helped to intimidate like a man. "Marguerite," she said briskly. "When are we starting?"

"Soon," Marguerite said placidly. "And how is Griffin?"

"My husband," snorted Riannon, "is suffering from a broken leg, the scoundrel. I told him to go easy on his huntin', but heaven forbid he listens to me, his wife." Not waiting for an answer, she pulled out a chair for herself across from Emil, who did not look pleased, and sat herself in it, her stance manly.

A familiar face was the young king of Spainne, Ana's brother Tristàn. His honey eyes were sad and tired but with broad shoulders thrown back, his posture was strong. He greeted Marguerite with a bow and a warm smile and then wordlessly took a seat beside the ruler of Eyerlin.

Unexpected arrivals included the King Julien of Bellgium and the Inglin monarch, King Charles, who, although they had no daughters, still had received letters and demanded to know what was going on.

Julien and Charles were both extremely stubborn men, though Julien had more of a temper than Charles, the latter being slightly more tolerable. Although they were similar in mind and soul, physically they were different as could be. Julien stood short and stout, with whispy blond hair and hardened, charcoal grey eyes, while Charles imposed a tall, slim figure with dark hair and ocean blue eyes Marguerite had always envied. The female monarch, though, was in no mood to look at those eyes. She was tempted to tell them to mind their own business and send them home, but a monarch could not be so brazen, especially not a woman one.

Marguerite took her position at the head of the table and swallowed indiscreetly. Well, at least the Itallien king was still up in his chambers. He would blow a gasket once he discovered the impromptu meeting had occurred without his presence. But she had enough to deal with at the moment.

Turning to face perhaps the most intimidating audience she had ever come across, Marguerite squared her shoulders. Ever the politician, she first asked, "What exactly did your letters tell you?" Perhaps this wasn't the most subtle method but in dire circumstances being straightforward was the only way to go.

"The letters," said Emil, "told us that your son was a monster, a beast. Is this true? Has a beast been courting my daughter?"

Chaos broke out at Emil's words, people arguing, shouting, trying to calm the other down.

"It is true," a voice rang out. Low, gravelly, and suppressing the ultimate rage, Marguerite could not help but shiver. She knew that voice.

"That monster has been courting our daughters," Cesario said, and his eyes glinted almost maniacally. "But none of you have anything to fear. He has fallen in love with _my _daughter, the beast. I suggest that we leave with our daughters immediately and see that some action against The Wolf Prince is taken."

"How dare you," seethed Marguerite, "speak of my son like that, in my presence, in _my home._ What right have you to do such a thing?"

"Madam," snarled Cesario, "when anything dear to me is threatened, it is my right to do what needs to be done is protect them."

"All you are protecting is your pride!" shouted Marguerite, her anger dominating her manners. "Cecilia loves Derek just as much as he loves her! When they wed, the curse is broken! Why are you punishing Derek for something that was his ancestors fault?"

She did not realize until that moment that it had gone silent in the room. She looked, heavily breathing, upon her fellow monarchs, who looked shocked.

"My lady," Tristàn said quietly, "please tell us of this curse. The letters given to us did not explain much, other than saying that the prince was a monster and that his curse would only be satisfied with the heart of a young princess."

Marguerite closed her eyes briefly. So that was it. They all thought that Derek would kill their loved ones for their hearts because of his affliction. She opened her eyes and spoke of the curse to someone other than her family for the first time. They all sat, fascinated, and Marguerite finished with that Derek would have to marry his true love before his first and twentieth birthday. And his true love was Cecilia.

"Yes, I know all of this," Cesario said, holding up a small book. "But I tell you, Marguerite, I do not give a damn whether your son lives or dies. All I want is my daughter back."

Marguerite gaped. She knew the significance of the book. "Where did you get that?" She whispered.

"It was sent to me with the letter informing me of your son's condition," sneered the king. "It has been most helpful. But that still does not change my mind. Your son is a monster, and he needs to be stopped. Now."

0 0 0

The man in the picture showed no resemblance to the young man standing in front of it, although his ice blue eyes held the same bitterness. His hair was a deep, glossy black with streaks of steel grey and white flitting through it, his posture strong and bold. The artist managed to capture the devilish smirk that so often was found on the owner's face. Dressed all in black, from his cape to his shoes, the picture painted the man in a form he was so rarely in; his human one.

To the people of the world he was known as The Dark Mage, the subject of many a tale known to scare children into obedience. To The Fair Enchantress, he was known as Little Brother, a title that many times infuriated him and fuelled his ambition. To the people of misguided Rushha, he was a savior, a promise in winning the war. To the people of Spainne he was an isolated, indifferent lord who never made time for court. To Lord Adrian, he was simply Father.

Growing up, Adrian did not have much contact with anyone beyond his father and the servants in their manor. His father kept him close to him after the mysterious death of Adrian's mother and taught him what he needed to know about the world. He educated him in subjects ranging from etiquette to archery to politics to sorcery.

The Dark Mageand his sister, The Fair Enchantress (or The Enchantress, as she was more often referred to as,) were two of the most powerful beings in the magical world. Although they were merely spectators, they served as rule keepers in the mortal world; only when things needed to be set right where they called upon, but otherwise their duty dictated that they not interfere.

The Dark Mage was responsible for the death and dying of all that was mortal; he had the power to end life (when it was time) and lead the souls to the next stage: death. The Fair Enchantress, his sister, began life and when a mistake was made by her brother, she corrected it with her power to bring back life.

His most fatal mistake occurred when he went to silently end the life of the ailing Rushhan king. Beside his bedside was his family, including his daughter Adrianna. His love for her was instantaneous and shortly after he appeared to her in human form to woo and court her.

The Fair Enchantress saw what was happening and begged her brother to give up the Rushhan princess. "It will only end in heartache," she told him. "Adrianna is mortal. What will happen when you must end her life? She cannot stay with you. She must move on."

The Dark Mage refused to listen to his sister and married her anyway; shortly after, they had Adrian. The latter event caused The Mage and The Enchantress to be on temporary good terms; as much as she disapproved of her brother's actions, The Enchantress adored her nephew.

But when the war began, The Dark Mage's fear for his wife and child led him to relinquish all aspects of common sense. He knew that they were mortal and he whisked them away to Spainne, where he created a title for them there, magicking his name into the memory and mind of the Spanish monarchs, letting him think that he had been a lord there all along.

When Adrianna found out about The Mage's powers, she begged him to help win the war—for Rushha. "They can win with you on their side," she pleaded. "Do it for me, my love."

And he did, for he could deny her nothing.

When The Enchantress found out about her brother's doings, she was furious. "It is not our right to interfere in the lives of humans!" she fumed at him. "Marrying Adrianna was bad enough, but this? You are affecting the lives of so many others. It is not fair to the other side that they have an immortal aiding their enemy. Do you not remember the Trojan war, Brother? The tragedy that we swore we would never bring upon human life?"

"Rot in hell, Sister dear," sneered The Dark Mage. "You do not have one you love to protect. And life is not fair, you have said it yourself." He paused, smirking. "Of course, if you wanted to make it fair, you could go and help the other side yourself."

In her rage, The Enchantress magicked herself away, doing just that. And while her brother had the ability to kill people by the thousands, she had the ability to bring them back to life—and he did not. Silently, invisibly she helped the countries of Italle, Fraanc, and more win the war. But it came at a valuable price: the love and friendship of her beloved brother.

The Dark Mage was not left unscarred either. He had unleashed a plague across the lands in his fury over the loss, but his recklessness cost him the thing he valued above all others: his wife. He forgot about her mortality—the one thing he had tried to protect for so long—and it ruined her.

He recalled the plague as soon as he knew she was dying but to no avail. She was gone.

The Mage turned to his sister one last time—The Enchantress, with her power of rebirth—but she refused him. "Let it be your lesson," she told him, her eyes sad and sympathetic even if her voice was unwavering, "of interfering in a place you never belonged."

His fury at her could have destroyed the world.

But he had an infant son to think of: Adrian, after his mother. It seemed that The Dark Mage had his own curse, however, because he continued to let Adrianna haunt him and his hatred for his sister and the people she protected ate at him. It allowed him to poison his young son's mind with that hatred, and so Adrian grew up, his heart as dark as his father's name.

And so he grew up with revenge on his brain and bitterness in his eyes.

He had not seen his father in a few months—he came and went, cold as a statue, but when he heard of Adrian's plans to bring down the Italle and Fraanc kingdoms he allowed a bit of affection and satisfaction seep through. Adrian—misguided, neglected—seeped it up and vowed to avenge his mother and the shell that was his father.

Even if he died doing it.

* * *

Last Edited: 4/7/09


	17. Chapter Fifteen : Part Two

**Summary: **A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

0 0 0

**Chapter Fifteen : Part Two**

"I, for one, fully agree with Cesario's statement," came a new voice that echoed across the walls of the small meeting room. The speaker feigned an air of cheerfulness and obedience that made the Itallien king wary. He whirled around his seat, trying to regain control of his senses. "Something _does _need to be done about the situation. Immediately."

"Where are you, devil child?" Cesario snarled menacingly in reply, causing a few of his fellow monarchs to recoil uncertainly. They had never seen Cesario so unhinged.

"If you opened your eyes for one goddamned second," Derek said calmly, heedless of his mother's earlier warnings of being respectful and courteous to the king, "you would see what was right in front of you. Or should I say, behind?" Cesario wheeled around, seeing Derek emerge from the shadows near the doorway of the room.

"You," he narrowed his eyes. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

Lifting a dark eyebrow, Derek moved closer to the table, giving a deep bow to his elders. "Isn't it obvious?" He said. "First and foremost, I live here. Secondly, you all are my guests, however rude your actions may be in coming here. It is my duty as host to welcome you back and make you feel comfortable. And thirdly, you are discussing me and my future. One would think that I am just _slightly_ inclined to know what is to happen of me." Ignoring several cringes, Derek casually draped himself into the empty seat next to Tristàn.

"Tris," he nodded, his voice never raising, never faltering. "I could make god awful pleasantries, but since you're a decent chap, I'll forgo them and be straight with you. How much of your letter do you believe?" Marguerite stood motionless at the head of the table. How drunk was her son to be acting so recklessly?

Tristàn, for his part, seemed cool and unaffected. "I appreciate the sentiments, _Der_," he said, his lips twitching slightly at the nickname. "If there is one thing I have learned in being a leader it is that one must gather all of the information before reaching a reasonable conclusion." His eyes flickered briefly to Cesario but the action remained unnoticed by the majority of the group. "I came to this meeting open-minded and I am hoping to leave the same way."

Derek grinned. "I knew I liked you!" He said, and he addressed the rest of the leaders. Although his smile was genuine, his eyes were no longer sparkling. They were serious and ready for battle. If one looked closely enough they could see the slight decline of his right eyebrow, a small frown blossoming. Before he stepped into that room and made his presence known, Derek had thrown caution to the wind. It was better to knock them off balance, see how scared of him they were before launching into the questioning.

"And the rest of you?" Derek wanted to know. "Did you come here as willing and open minded as Tristàn? Or have you all decided that you know all there is to know about me and have come to condemn me?"

No one spoke, not even Cesario. But Derek did not dismiss his beloved's father just yet. "Cesario," he said, and his tone was conversational, borderline respectful. It was as if the two were discussing horse races or some other neutral topic. "There has been something that has been bothering me all day and night."

Cesario snorted. "Your Curse?"

It was the first trickle of genuine humor that had occurred during the meeting. Derek could not help but chuckle slightly, though his defenses were still raised. "That is something that has bothered me all my life," he uttered airily. "But no. What I would like to know, if you could so please divulge the information, is who wrote you the letter of my… condition? I believe they stole something of mine and I would like to know who the little thief is."

The Itallien king hesitated, as if not sure whether he should share that tidbit. But he too decided that he might as well. "It was Lord Adrian," he inclined his head towards Tristàn, "of the region of Magio in Spainne."

"Ahhh," Derek said evenly, although his eyes flashed. "Lord Adrian. I see. Might I peruse the letter he sent you?" Suspiciously, Cesario handed Derek the letter. All eyes were on the young prince as he read the letter, though his facial expressions gave nothing away. Handing the letter back to Cesario wordlessly, Derek brushed off some imaginary lint on his clothing and stood up, addressing the monarchs once more.

"What he says in that letter is absolutely true," said Derek. "Save, of course, Lady Keleigh's affections for me. Begging your pardon, that girl is nothing more but a manipulative snake. Her feelings for me are purely due to my birth right. As for Adrian, he is a jealous cad, only seeing your daughter as an object. I don't recommend you trust him—look how he sneaks about, sending letters instead of confronting me like a real man? Is that the sort of man you want around your daughter?

"So I will be up front with you now; I will not creep around as he did. It's true that I love her," he told Cesario, "and that she is my True One. I will assume you read the book, and she fits all of the criteria stated. She accepts that I am her true love as well. Although I confess that I was rash in the manner of which I sent for her to Fraanc, I do wish you would accept my apologies about the event and allow me to marry your daughter. We would make each other very happy and isn't that all you want, as her father? For her to be happy?"

Everyone considered Derek's words, some more strenuously than others. Emil wore a deep frown. Charles and Julien whispered among themselves, looking incredibly like their vain wives. Liam and Rhiannon looked somewhat approvingly at Derek, while Tristàn chuckled silently at Emil, quite amused at the elder's facial expression.

"There is only one thing more important to me than my daughter's happiness," Cesario said quietly. "And that is her safety. With you around, Prince Derek, I do not believe anyone is safe. As for Adrian, I trust his judgment much more than I could ever trust _yours._"

Derek narrowed his eyes at the king's rejection of his words. What did he have planned?

"We need to get back to the subject at hand!" Cesario said, addressing everyone but Derek. "We came here to see what to do about this—this—_monster_! Something needs to be done! And now is not the time to sit the fence, gentlemen. Who agrees?"

Unsurprisingly, Charles and Julien put their hands up, glaring at Derek and Marguerite. Emil also raised his hand, the ever present scowl on his face.

Cesario looked expectantly at the rest of the crowd.

No one else raised their hand.

Rhiannon looked defiantly on at Cesario, her chin thrust out proudly. Liam's visage continued to be calm, but there was a proud glint in his eye that warned not to be pushed. Tristàn, as usual, was the picture of cool and calm but his facial expression told of faint disgust towards the others.

"Ye go too far, Cesario," Liam said quietly. "Ye are thinking of yer own pride and paranoia. If Cecilia marries Derek, ye will not lose her as ye lost Dominique. The Curse will be broken and yer daughter will be safe _and _happy. By denying Derek from her, only then will ye truly lose her."

Cesario's face flamed at Liam's words. "Do not speak of Dominique," he growled. "And do not speak to me as if I do not know how to love my own child."

Liam held up his hands in a pacifying gesture, but said no more.

"That is your fatal mistake," spat out Rhiannon. "Cecilia will always be your daughter, but she is no longer a _child. _She is a woman now, one with dreams and love and a future. Who are you to take that away from her?" Her eyes narrowed as she muttered, "_Men. _Always thinking they know best."

"I know it is hard to let go," Tristàn said quietly, his dark eyes melancholy as he thought of his own parents, dead and buried at sea. "But this is life, Cesario. We must take risks in order to gain. You are trying to protect your daughter from your own heartbreak, but as a parent, as a guardian, we must know when it is time to let them experience the world for themselves. Otherwise, we are doing them a disservice by holding them back."

"Oh cut the sentimental pleas," Emil barked. "I think that Derek is lying. Clearly he and Cesario have an antagonistic relationship. What is the ultimate revenge then marrying his enemy's daughter? I am beginning to think that this Curse will not fade when they are married. He will keep his daughter prisoner like the minotaur in Greece."

"That was centuries ago," hissed Liam, losing some of his cool, but was cut off by Charles.

"Besides that, what kind of message would this send to the public? Daughters would be disobeying their fathers for _true love_," he spat out, disgusted. "Love is imaginary. A fairy tale told to children."

"At one time you too believed in love, Charles," Marguerite said quietly, her first statement in awhile. "You were the one who fell in love with Cindy instantly."

"It was lust," Charles said, although his eyes were sad for a moment. "But that is beside the point. Daughters need to obey their fathers. And I think Cecilia is acting out in rebellion."

Rhiannon growled menacingly. "So daughters should mind their fathers at all times? Even if a father told her she would be miserable all her life?"

Charles narrowed his eyes as he opened his mouth to speak.

"The main point is," Julien said evenly, "that this world is not safe with such a monster in it. I will be forward as well; something must be done with you. I would not like to see you eliminated, but if that is what must be done," Julien shrugged his shoulders. "so be it."

Derek did not dignify a response to the explosive statement, but everyone else in the room did. Shouting and arguments filled the small, ancient room and Derek could feel his head pounding. He had had little to no sleep in the past two days and his fate was left in the hands of crotchety old men.

He needed to see Cecilia. Immediately.

0 0 0

Although her sleep was deep, it was also brief and it was only an hour after sunrise did Cecilia awaken. Tendrils of sunlight descended through her open window and peaked through flimsy curtains. They sparkled upon her dark hair and bid her to wake up. Looking over on her side, she saw that her younger sister, who shared her bed the night before, was still fast asleep.

Careful not to wake her, Cecilia crept out of bed and reached for her cream colored dressing robe. Shrugging the silky material on, she spent the next half hour getting dressed and ready for the day. Feeling oddly calm, she pulled on one of her worn, favorite gowns; a once periwinkle cotton dress that faded to a soft blue-grey. Her hair was half-pinned, leaving various waves to descend down her back. She wrote a note to her sister, placed it on the pillow next to her, and left the room, an oddly quiet Ilario trailing at her feet.

Outside of the room, a flurry of activity appeared to be going on. Maids and servants scrambled everywhere, damp laundry flying, trunks banging on the hall floor and voices—so many voices, shouting, gossiping, whispering, mumbling, commanding, obeying. Cecilia's senses were overloaded with sights and sounds.

She stopped a decidedly frazzled Priscilla, who had a large laundry basket in hand. "Miss Priscilla, what is going on here?" Cecilia wanted to know.

Priscilla's eyes seemed to tear over immediately. "Oh, my Lady," she said, biting her lip, "everyone is leaving."

Cecilia looked bewildered. "Leaving?"

"You didn't know?" Priscilla asked, completely ignoring the other maids whirling around her. "All of the rulers from the neighboring countries—Inglin, Scoughtlyn, Eyerlin, Spainne, Germaine, Bellgium—they all arrived last night! Your father contacted them, Princess, and told them about His Highness's condition. Now the other ladies are all leaving—their fathers don't want them to stay any longer!"

A hand on her heart, Cecilia leaned against her doorway. "All of them?"

Priscilla nodded. "Yes." Her eyes looked sympathetic. "Even you, Lady."

"Father is really making me leave?" The words were faintly spoken, as if they were thoughts accidentally voiced.

The older woman gestured to the laundry basket. "He is indeed. In fact, these are yours, Princess."

"Where is he?" Cecilia choked suddenly, a wave of emotion riding up in her throat. "Where is he? I need to see him."

Priscilla frowned. "Your father, Lady? I doubt he will change his mind, even if you go to see him."

Cecilia shook her head. "No, not my father."

Immediately the other woman understood. "He has not been harmed," she said gently, laying a comforting arm on Cecilia's shaking shoulder. "He is, actually, with your father. They are arguing."

"Oh no!" Cecilia's mind conjured many images of her father and Derek—none of them particularly peaceful. She stalked quickly down the hallway, dodging running maids, screeching noblewomen and panicked serving girls.

Running down the grand staircase, she turned left towards angry voices, completely ignoring the kings and queens who gave her odd stares. Encased in the shadows of the doorway to the small stone room, Cecilia felt a hand on her arm.

"Hello, Cecilia." Even darkened in the shadows, Cecilia could make out the queen's face. It was still regal and elegant, but worry lines were clearly visible and her eyes were old and tired. Sophistication was the last thing on her mind.

"Is it true?" whispered Cecilia. "Are they all going?"

"Yes. King Emil of Germaine said his daughter was not fit to stay here. Lucinda, Belinda, Melinda, and Florinda have learned of the Curse and fainted in horror—they were the first to leave. As for Tessa, Ana and Fiona… they did not want to leave. But their parents and guardians are making them, for we fear a war and they do not want them involved."

Cecilia was aghast. "A war?"

"Over what to do with Derek. The monarchs of Germaine, Bellgium, Inglin, and your father feel that Derek must be killed or at least imprisoned for everyone's safety. Eyerlin, Scoughtlyn, Spainne and myself, obviously, feel the exact opposite. We are at an impasse—and the supposedly 'peaceful' meeting adjourned two hours ago with shouting and fear and anger. As much as I want to hate the other countries for it, I can only see they are acting out of love and fear. I just don't know what to do," she confessed, sighing. "I am so sorry my dear," said a defeated Marguerite.

"For what?" Cecilia answered. "The only person who needs to apologize is my father for his atrocious behavior. I thank you, Marguerite, for the kindness and hospitality you have shown me. As rude as this may sound, I only wish I could have stayed longer."

"As do I, dear," smiled the saddened queen. "I am afraid I shall not see you for quite some time."

Feeling a fleeting hint of humor, Cecilia smiled. "You'll see me soon," she assured her. "If not soon, then surely at our wedding."

Marguerite blinked, stunned. "You love him then?"

"With every breath in me."

Hugging the girl tightly to her, Marguerite forgot about the impending obstacles the other monarchs imposed, forgot about everything else except that for once in his life, her son had a chance at a blissful future.

The two women separated and turned silent eyes onto the scene before them: Derek and Cesario faced each other, poised to attack—whether it was physically or verbally neither could tell—hands clenched, shoulders tense, with irritated scowls on their faces. Behind him, Cesario's guards stood ready to defend their king if necessary.

"Go to him," were Marguerite's whispered words, "before either of them does something rash."

That was all she needed. "Derek," she called out softly to her beloved.

Both father and suitor heard her. "Cecilia," they both said at the same time, then whipped their heads to glare at each other.

"Cecilia, stay back! Go back your things! We're leaving!" her father barked.

"No," snarled Derek, walking, trying to go towards the sound of her voice.

"Guards!"

Immediately they were upon Derek, each holding one arm as he wrestled wildly, trying to get to her. Cecilia felt tears slip down her cheeks at the sight of him, so worn and yet not beaten, doing anything he could just to get to her. She understood the feeling. If it had been she, she would have done the same.

"Oh, Derek," she said, trying to move toward him, though her feet would not listen. Belatedly, she realized it was because a guard was binding her as well. She started to struggle, faintly hearing Marguerite's protests.

Cesario looked cruelly, smugly on. "Father," cried Cecilia, "why are you doing this? Why do you take pleasure in hurting me so?"

His anger melted away from his face. "I am concerned for you, my daughter," he said. "Is that so wrong for a man to keep his loved ones safe?"

"I will not disappear!" She shouted. "I will not desert you as Mother did. Please, please, let me be happy. I love him!"

"You do not know what you are talking about!" Cesario roared. "You would only be causing yourself pain if you marry this monster—I am trying to help you. Why can you not accept that? I am not trying to hurt you."

"But you are," sobbed Cecilia. "You _are._" Through tears she could see matching droplets on Derek's face, his anguish evident because of hers.

"Someday," Cesario said softly, and his voice was sad, but strong. "You will understand why I did what I have done today. And you will thank me for it." His features hardened and he once again became a king, not a father. "But for now we will be going home. I would rather die than let you marry this _monster_," he said, the disgust in his voice apparent.

At his words, something in Derek seemed to shatter and he slumped to the ground, his arms still bound, defeated. "Cesario," he said, his voice deep and weary. "I will no longer fight you on Cecilia returning to Italle—but at least…. At least let me see her." His voice broke at his next words: "Just one last time."

Cecilia saw the pain on his face, the defeat in his posture, and despaired over it. He was giving her up that quickly? Was her storybook love ending already?

Her father considered the words. "I will let you see her one last time," he said, his temporary kindness peeking through. "For closure." He nodded to the guards, who released Cecilia, though not Derek.

She ran to him, stumbling, falling on her knees before him. Cradling his face in her hands, their eyes drank in each other as they fought to memorize each other like the many passages of books they had read. And in his dark eyes, the eyes she loved so much, Cecilia saw strength and determination there. He was not giving her up, not by a long shot.

Although her father didn't have to know that.

Cecilia kissed him, uncaring that her father and the guards and his mother were watching. And he kissed her back, slowly and tenderly, pouring all of his emotions into the physical action. He felt his heart shatter into a thousand pieces, and he wondered if happiness would always be out of his reach. Nevertheless— "I love you," he whispered to her, voice rough. "If nothing else, don't forget that. Never doubt my love." Dropping his voice even lower, so the guards could not hear, "And I will find you, love. No matter where you may be, I will come for you."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, wishing he could do the same for her, hating how he was still bound, still trapped physically and emotionally. Inhaling his scent as she buried her head into his shoulder, turning her head only to whisper, "I love you. And when you shall come for me, no matter when or where, I will be ready for you."

With all of her strength, she held onto him, reveling in his nearness, and only when her father's guards pried her arms away did she finally let go.

_

* * *

_

Last Edited: 4/7/09


	18. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary: **A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

0 0 0

**Chapter Sixteen**

"A war, Your Highness?" Edmund asked, disbelief coloring his tone. The other eleven men stood, shock still, as they waited for the queen's answer.

The immortal group had found themselves in this position many times before; after living for thirteen generations, war was a commonplace event in their lives. And eventually, the battle-hardened individuals actually learned to take it in stride. Usually the wars were brief skirmishes over land, wealth, stolen princess, etc. etc., but never before had a war over an individual occurred. Well, at least not since the Greeck war of Troy—but that had been empires ago.

The men knew that something dire had taken place in the castle. They were never unaware of what was happening under that roof, with the exception of the meeting of the monarchs. The queen had ordered them to stay put in their own quarters and not interfere. To put it mildly, the councilmen were disgruntled, but she was their sovereign and they obeyed, albeit reluctantly.

Now as the dust cleared and the other royalty were gone, the councilmen were left in a sea of confusion. Less than an hour after Cesario dragged his court and children away, Marguerite called a meeting to explain to her advisers what had taken place.

"All of them?" Franklin's voice trembled a moment when Marguerite told them about the departures of all of the princesses and ladies. "All of them are gone? They all were dragged away by their families?"

Marguerite's eyes hardened a moment. "Yes," she said briefly. "Most of them fainted in horror at the news. One of them- a Lady Keleigh- apparently was so distraught at the news that she left immediately, leaving naught by a note behind."

"But a war, Your Majesty?" Edmund repeated.

Marguerite sighed. "Gentlemen, as selfish as this is, I am only a mother. No longer am I a wife, and despite my title, Derek has been running this kingdom for a while now; no longer am I a queen. The only thing I have left is my maternal instincts; Derek is all I have left. Going to war for him is not even an option in my opinion. There are people out there who want to kill my son, and I will not have it so. You can disagree with me on this, but this war is not just about Derek, it is about all of those who are different and cursed with situations they cannot control. If we cannot fight this battle in the name of them, we have done a disservice to our people."

"My lady," chuckled Franklin, "that is a manipulation of the truth if I have ever head one. This war is for Derek and solely Derek."

"Perhaps I am manipulating the truth," conceded Marguerite. "But it is Derek's situation that can be fought over, can it not? And his situation is no different than the man who broke his leg cutting down timber or the helpless woman with child who can hardly move about the house; in time their situations can be improved, but without any help or guidance they cannot survive on their own. And if that is a manipulation of the truth, so be it; whatever the public needs to hear in order to fight in this war for me. If they do that, I will do whatever I can in return to help them." It had been a long week for the queen, and it was as if finally she had regained her old sense of leadership and strength.

"My lady," said Gregory, "you are certainly a unique species of woman."

Not at all offended by this comment, Marguerite gave her advisor a cat-like smile. "Thank you, Gregory," she said. "Now," she addressed the rest of her group. "Does anybody have any idea where to begin in the upcoming war preparations?"

0 0 0

"We don't have the funds for this."

"Or the men."

"Or the funds!"

"Or the weapons."

"Or the funds!"

"Yes, godammit, Percutio, I realize that we have no funds!" roared Cesario. "But does it look like I care? Gentlemen, the honor of Italle at stake."

Percutio, Benvolio, and Iago, Cesario's chief advisors, of finance, militia, and population, respectively, glanced at each other. Although they greatly respected the king, ever since the last war, they feared greatly for his sanity. The obsessive lengths he went to protect his daughters were admirable, though rather frightening.

"I'm not backing down on this," snarled Cesario. "We need to get rid of the monster that plagues Fraanc!"

"With all due respect," drawled Iago, "Prince Derek is Fraanc's problem, is he not? I understand that he and Princess Cecilia claim to be in love, but why not just separate them? Is a war really necessary?"

"It is!" His vehemence seemed to echo throughout the room.

It was fall, then, and it was bitterly cold already, from the weather and the tension. The return to the castle was quiet, subdued. Cecilia said not a word the entire trip, not to him, anyway. The only thing he saw her do was pet that damn pup of hers, and while Cesario was tempted to throw the thing out the carriage window, he was hypocritically aware of a line he was not to cross. Despite Cecilia's silence, Cesario assumed soon she would forget about Derek, her child's love fading with it. But it had been two months, and she neither forgave nor forgot the events that took place in Fraanc.

It was mid-September, and instead of delighting in its jewel-tone leaves, crisp sunshine, and wine festivals, the castle took on a dreary, wary air. The people knew something was going to happen. The stiff airs of the castle servants and guards gave it away, made people whisper and titter and be frightened. Cecilia couldn't stand it. She hated the thought of her people suffering any shape or form. And she hated the thought that it was because of her.

Cecilia hated the thought of placing the true blame upon her father, but there it was. There was no need for a war. If he would just stop being so narrow-minded, perhaps the issue would be settled. He had acted to tactlessly and irresponsibly she briefly wondered if perhaps he and Derek wouldn't get along after all.

But mayhap that was the problem. Two beings, so pig-headed and headstrong, seemed destined to dislike each other.

"I tell you, gentlemen, this war is going to happen whether I get your permission or not!"

"The Fraanc army is very well trained, milord. The only way I can see us having any sort of a chance in this war is if we have even more powerful allies," Benvolio reasoned with a grim set to his face.

"Oh," Cesario said, a ghastly, inhuman grin trailing up his face, "I can take care of that, I should think."

0 0 0

_To Lord Adrian: _

_I cannot thank you enough for your services in revealing the true nature of Fraanc's Crown Prince; you saved me from the heartache I would have suffered from losing my eldest daughter, Cecilia, to that monster. _

_That being said, I have a proposition for you. I feel it only right that you help me finish what you so generously began in eliminating the threat of Prince Derek once and for all. _

_My proposition is simple: an alliance. An alliance of funds, loyal men, and weaponry. I realize that your liege may be supporting Derek, but do not think you are committing treason. Your king, though a generous ruler, is, I think, blinded by Derek just as my Cecilia is. I feel that we would be acting with everyone's best interests in mind, even if they do not appreciate it at the time._

_Whether you accept or not, I would prefer your reply come back through the same hands that deliver this letter. I am wary of the many spies that Marguerite and Derek may have released. _

_Should you accept, we will discuss the details at a later date. The time and place will be, of course, at your own convenience. _

_In short, I hope you will consider this letter and accept the offer. You are a good man, Lord Adrian, and I feel that we could accomplish something great together._

_Sincerely,_

_King Cesario of Italle_

0 0 0

_Derek—_

_While I was researching some things in the library yesterday afternoon, I came across some interesting information about one of my subjects which I think you, too, will find intriguing. Sending it to you would be too hazardous. May I come for a visit? _

_Tristàn_

0 0 0

_Your Highness,_

_I accept your_ _offer. Let us meet in my manor in two weeks, if that is acceptable for you. I agree entirely with your sentiments and feel that this would be a good opportunity to meet, as the king has been called away on an emergency meeting, or so my sources say._

_Your humble ally,_

_Lord Adrian _

0 0 0

_Tristàn—_

_Of course. Come quickly. I have a bad feeling you're right._

_Derek_

0 0 0

The eve of winter found Derek standing miserably at a large paneled window. Tristàn was due to arrive that night and everything was ready for him, so all there was to do was wait. And so he did, with his back ramrod straight, his legs spread to the width of his shoulders, his wrists clasped behind his back. Although the inner wolf in him urged Derek to pace around the room, implored him to move or do _something_, Derek could not move. Unseeing eyes watched a light snow begin to descend upon the small village below, as fireplace smoke rose up, fighting its way through the impending snowflakes to be seen, to ascend into the crisp night.

There were only a few months left until his birthday and Derek felt as though nothing was meant to go the way it was supposed to. He had never anticipated finding his True One, and now that he had, he had foolishly thought that things would be easy for them. How wrong he was!

He was tempted to give up, to quit—but then he thought of Cecilia. She was something worth fighting for. And besides, he had promised her that he would come. And he would do well on his promise.

"Your Highness," came Priscilla's voice. "His Majesty King Tristàn of Spainne is here."

"Thank you, Priscilla," he responded without turning around. Focusing his eyes, Derek saw the carriages of Spainne. While he expected perhaps one or two, he was vastly surprised to see at least five.

"Good God," muttered Derek. "What the hell did Tris bring, a library?"

"You couldn't be more correct, my friend," said a voice from behind him. Whirling around, Derek saw Tristàn, standing cool and composed, with a small, amused smile on his lips. "We will be conducting some research, I'm afraid."

Derek scowled briefly. "Fabulous. Ah, well. Thank you for coming; I dearly appreciate it. You may tell your servants to bring your books into my library. Would you like some rest first or shall we start in right away?"

Tristàn smiled. "The latter, I should think. I've been sitting far too long for my comfort."

"Very well, then," Derek said, leading the way. "I'm quite curious to see what you've dug up."

"Well, it's quite simple, really," Tristàn said in a false, overly cheerful tone. "I fear that someone has cast a few spells over my kingdom, as well."

"Excuse me?" Derek sputtered, looking sideways at his comrade.

"I was looking up some history books of the Royal families and their courts, trying to see if there was any information on Lord Adrian's family. To my surprise, there was none. That I found odd immediately, considering that, to my recollection, his family is one of the more ancient ones. I put the book back, blaming it on a faulty record keeper. But all of the other books I researched through also said nothing. I like to think that Spainne's record keepers are more competent than that, so I knew that there had to be another explanation. I went to some of my trusted advisers, who researched with me. It was inexplicable; how had Adrian's family come into being? I suppose one could always lie about such things, but a commoner pretending to be royal is tricky business. I casually began to ask people if they knew anything about Lord Adrian and one comment piqued my interest. Someone wanted to know if it was true if Lord Adrian dabbled in magick.

" 'Magick?' I wanted to know.

"They assured me that it was a common rumor, actually; that Lord Adrian and his family practiced magick—most notably the dark arts. It seemed farfetched, but I suppose with everything that I've encountered in the past few months I didn't dare rule it out. And the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. What if there was a way that he could cast a spell on all of Spainne to make us believe that he was part of a noble family? And yet, if it only affected our memories, then it wouldn't write itself into book, obviously. His family probably bet on us not checking record books of all of our noble families of Spainne, and if we did, it would not be on his family."

Derek thought about the notion for a few minutes. It _was _farfetched, to be sure, but Derek wouldn't put it past Adrian or his family to do such a thing. After all, the slimy bastard had pretty much ruined Derek's attempts at happiness.

"It's a good hunch," Derek finally said firmly. "I'm willing to look more into it. It's the only lead we've got. But what else are we looking for?"

"I don't know," Tristàn shook his head. "I had my servants pack any books they could that might help us in our search."

And so they began. Pouring over books over history, lineage, magick, and more, the two monarchs worked far into the night and into the next day, pausing briefly for necessities.

The third day found Derek going through the motions of researching. His movements were slow and he found himself drifting off to sleep…

PLOP!

Startled, Derek looked up. A book had dropped onto his desk from Tristàn's table, which was just above him, on the second level of the library.

"S'ry about that," murmured Tristàn, his mouth feeling dry from lack of use. "You all right down there?"

"Perfectly fine," Derek said, his eyes focusing on the book for the first time. Unlike the others, this one had elaborate pictures. Turning to the cover, he saw it was titled simply, "_Fairy Tales_." Turning back to the page, he realized with a start that the picture was of the Enchantress. He had never seen her in person, but each member of his family knew her, instinctively, carrying a picture of her deep in their souls.

The embodiment of light, the Enchantress seemed to glow in an eerie and ethereal way. Long, white gold hair framed a pale, luminescent face that had hauntingly gold eyes. Elegant and graceful to a fault, she seemed to glide everywhere she went. Her power seemed to crackle off of her in lightning bolts.

Intrigued, Derek began to read. "Once upon a time, there were two siblings," he murmured to himself, "The Dark Mage and the Enchantress of Light…" The tale was long—much longer than any normal fairy tale.

"…The Dark Mage begged his sister to bring back his dead wife, but she refused, telling him it was a mistake he was meant to learn. The Dark Mage took his son and lived in secret in the heart of Spainne. Growing up, his son swore revenge upon the Enchantress and all who were under her protection, learning the dark arts until one day, victory would be his," finished Derek. He frowned deeply, recognizing immediately that the son in question was Lord Adrian.

This was much more than either of them imagined, Derek realized with a start. It wasn't a simple game of petty politics—it was a rival between two of the most powerful beings on the earth.

"Tristàn," he called, his voice tense. "Come read this." Tristàn, hearing the tone in Derek's voice, went to the younger man and perused the story over his shoulder.

After a long time, Tristàn cleared his throat and said, his voice gravelly, "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"What?" Derek turned to face the Spainnish monarch. "What's there not to understand?"

"If this story is true," Tristàn said, "then how recently must this have been written? The war only ended a few years ago and Adrian is surely mortal—or at the very least isn't _im_mortal. Who could have written this without me knowing?"

"I did," said a low, melodic voice, and the boys whirled around to see the Enchantress of the Light herself, looking very calm and at home in Derek's library.

* * *

Last Edited: 6/29/10


	19. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary: **A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

0 0 0

**Chapter Seventeen**

"Cecilia, dear," Cesario's voice rang through the castle and everyone in the vicinity visibly winced. "Would you come here please?"

Cecilia suppressed a grimace. She concluded that, without a doubt, her father had lost his mind. Where was his head, to screech his business to everyone in the castle? Why not send a servant to tell her? Of course, servants gossiped and the word would have gotten around eventually, but still. Let their business be aired the civilized and old-fashioned way at least.

Without answering, she slowly rose from her seat and went into her father's study. "Cecilia," he said, a great grin on his face. "I have some wonderful news for you."

His daughter tensed, feeling as though "wonderful" news would be as terrible as...

"You are to be married," Cesario said jovially, "to Lord Adrian."

Cecilia swallowed. There were two ways she could handle the situation, she thought, her brain racing to come up with a suitable path of action. She could either throw a fit, provoking her father into something rash, or she could take the news maturely, like she would have if she had never met Derek and her father informed her of a marriage. She would be upset and reluctant, but otherwise cooperative.

At that point, it would be better for her to take the latter route, Cecilia concluded. That way, when she plotted for escape he would have no reason to suspect her; he would have no way of knowing her true feelings. With a feeling of dread, Cecilia realized that she was indeed "keeping her friends close and her enemies closer." It just broke her heart to classify her father as an enemy.

"Well," she finally answered. "I cannot say I'm surprised."

Her father peered at her closely. "Why do you say that?"

"You and Lord Adrian have been quite chummy lately… 'tis only natural, I suppose," Cecilia continued, her heart pounding. She was counting on the fact that her father was not all there, mentally speaking. Normally he was a very observant man.

"What?" Her father wanted to know. "No tears, no begging or pleading for me to reconsider?"

"I fear that if I did so, my efforts would be in vain," Cecilia replied flatly. "They would be a waste of breath. I have accepted my fate and my duty....And. And honestly, I have quite forgotten Derek already."

Cesario smiled, relieved. Little did he know that the fate and duty Cecilia spoke of was not the same as was implied, and that she was nowhere near forgetting her True One.

_I will find my way back to you, Derek, _thought Cecilia. _Please wait for me. _

It was urgent that Cecilia find a way to write a message to Derek. The only way to make an escape plan work was through communication. But how?

"Mmmph, mmm," came a whimper from Cecilia's left. Turning, she saw Ilario, looking up at her with sad eyes. He was too big for her to pick up, now, but she knelt down to pet him anyway.

"Do you miss him?" She whispered. Ilario's tail wagged in reply. "I miss him, too," she said, hugging the dog to her. "I miss everyone." Well, almost everyone. Not Keleigh, that was for certain, but she missed Tessa and Fiona and Ana… Ana!

The next day, Cecilia approached her father with a proposition. "I want Princess Ana of Spainne to be my Maiden of Honor," she told him. "Since she and Lord Adrian are both from Spainne, I think it is appropriate."

"Hmm," Cesario stroked his beard. "Her brother, I believe, is aiding Derek…"

"Ana's loyalties lie with me over Derek," Cecilia replied quickly, hoping he did not think of Ana's loyalties ultimately lying with her brother as opposed to Cecilia.

"That is true," Cesario said, missing the point completely. "That is fine, then. Write her."

Thinking of something, Cecilia stopped. "When is my wedding?"

"A week before spring solstice," replied Cesario.

Cecilia felt sick. There wasn't much time left.

0 0 0

The first thing Derek thought when his brain was able to work coherently again was that she looked just like the picture in the book.

"You two are both very diligent, I must admit," the Enchantress said, slowly walking around the two men, both frozen in shock. "I am impressed. It took you a while to find the book, however. I was wondering if you ever would."

Derek's heart began to pound in fear. This was the woman who caused the Curse upon his family. Derek was glad he was too stunned to be angry; he felt turning into a wolf with both Rafael and the Enchantress in the room would not bode well for anyone. However, he had to admit that although the Curse was horrific, an indescribable pain and burden to live with, he knew instinctively that without it, eventually his family line would have been annulled through a Revolution or he would have become the spoiled brat most royal children turned out to be.

But still.

"What are you doing here, milady?" Tristàn's strangled voice croaked.

"To warn you," she said. "Regardless of what you may think, Crown Prince," she said, addressing Derek, "I want you to overcome this. You and your family have repented sufficiently. The prosperity of your kingdom and your treatment of others have proven that."

Derek blinked.

The Enchantress laughed, and it was kind and low. "Your determination and loyalty have served you well, Prince Derek. Now it is time to summon your courage and strength." Her eyes turned solemn. "You will need it."

"Milady…" Derek trailed off hesitantly. "Are you going to help us?"

The Enchantress shook her head. "I cannot, I'm afraid," she said. "As you read in the story, it is not my place to interfere. If, however, my brother makes his presence known, then I will go to battle again. 'Tis only fair, I suppose."

"What do we need to do then?" Derek asked quietly, his head spinning. "I fear I am lost. I do not know what I need to do now."

The Enchantress gave him a compassionate, patient smile, as a mother would do to her child. "Well, you must first find Cecilia and marry her," she told him. "The broken curse will help you. You must, obviously, defeat Adrian. His own followers will be small, and I doubt Italle will want to go to war again. Many of their men were wiped out the previous war. However, if Adrian appeals to his mother's side—the Russhans, then you will be in trouble. What the Russhans don't have in technology they make up for in numbers. King Rafael, you must act quickly to rally men before Lord Adrian does. Derek, you will have to rally numbers as well. Germaine and Inglin are remaining neutral, although Derek must be an exemplary diplomat in order to stay on their good side. Scoughtlyn and Eyerlin are willing to be suppliers in everything but men, I believe, which is a good sign.

"I realize my nephew may use dark arts, but he cannot cause death as his father can. He may, however, be able to… aide it, a bit. Be careful. Test your water—boil it before drinking. Cook your food thoroughly and don't leave anything unattended. I fear that he may use the route his father took, and aide in starting a plague.

"You can do it, you know," she said, a reassuring smile planted on her face, "I believe in you. And now, I must go. I have faith in you. What you must have now is faith in yourselves."

And with a crackle of electricity, she was gone, leaving an aftermath of gold dust.

"Well, what in the devil do we do now?" Derek turned to Tristàn, the former looking a tad dazed still.

"You heard her," Tristàn said grimly, his mouth set in a straight, firm line. "We gather the men and prepare for combat."

0 0 0

"I'm glad you called me, my friend," Ana whispered to Cecilia as the two greeted at the castle entranceway two weeks later. "I have some good news for you."

"Really?" grinned Cecilia, feeling lighter than she had in weeks since her separation from Derek. "Do tell."

"Soon," murmured Ana, as the two fell into silence as they traipsed the stairs up to Cecilia's room. Once the door was shut, Ana's eyes gleamed. "When I leave here, I am to return to Spainne—throw off any spies your father will send with me. From there, I will go to Fraanc. My brother is there, you see, helping your love with his task. Any message you want to send to him you can give to me.

"I think that, once I leave here, we should have an escape plan for you," continued Ana. "Nothing is clear anymore—if it ever was, I suppose. I feel it is best we be safe rather than sorry."

"That's good thinking," Cecilia agreed slowly. "Where would I go once I escaped, though?"

"Either to Fraanc or Spainne, I suppose," Ana shrugged. "But first we must come up with a general plan."

And so they did. Long into the night when they were supposedly planning wedding details, the two girls plotted of Cecilia's escape. Moonlight and candles were the only light they needed as they sketched out on parchment the various aspects of their plan.

"Are there any wedding traditions that can be used to our advantage?" Ana wanted to know.

Cecilia thought for a moment, trying to recall ancient customs from the many books she read. "There is a very ancient Roman one… no man may see the bride a week before the wedding. It is during that time she is to be educated on… wifely duties. Throughout the centuries, the custom has transformed into one where the bridegroom is not allowed to see his bride the day before the wedding until the actual ceremony. I suppose I could invoke the ancient Roman one. It would be unusual, but not unheard of. A week is not enough time to go to Fraanc to see Derek, though…"

"What if we brought Derek to you?" Ana wanted to know. "Where are you getting married?"

"Here, I suppose," Cecilia said, frowning confusedly. "Where else would we get married?"

Ana grinned and told her.

0 0 0

Her father looked at her suspiciously. "Why Spainne?"

"Because everyone would think we would have the wedding here, in Italle," Cecilia explained. "We would be like sitting ducks. It would be better to be married in Spainne, privately, in hope that the enemy would not know. And once the war is over and… we win, then we can come home and celebrate with a huge ball, celebrating our victory and my wedding." She hoped her father couldn't see the nervous hairs on the back of her neck, see the perspiration developing high on her forehead, or notice the way her hands were clasped so tightly together her knuckles lost all color.

"And besides," she continued, "from there, you can attack Fraanc more easily. If you attacked from our border, your men would have to cross mountains. From the Fraanc-Spainne border, you would not have to do so."

Cesario thought it over, then grinned. "I will bring this up with my advisers," he announced, "but I think, dear daughter, you are finally using some common sense."

Trying not to flinch at his condescending, distant tone, Cecilia nodded, curtseyed, and left the room, not wanting to be with this man any longer than she had to.

Hurrying back to her chambers, she quickly locked the door. Luckily, her maids were gone and she was left alone. It would be a good time to write a letter to Derek. It would have to be a fairly neutral letter, one that, if it fell in the wrong hands, would not cause any serious damage. She would have Ilario carry it—she decided that she would send him with Ana to give to Derek. Cecilia hoped that Ilario would bring Derek the same comfort that he did to her.

_Derek—_

_Darling, we don't have much time. Spring solstice is approaching and my father has plans for me… ones that involve Lord Adrian. I don't know how we will find each other, but I still have hope. Please still have hope in me, in us. We will find our way. _

_I miss you. Every moment of every day. I wish you were here… I wish I was there. Since neither can occur, please accept Ilario in my stead. I will see you soon, I can feel it._

_Love,_

_Cecilia_

It was short and sweet. Perhaps it was not the most subtle, but Cecilia liked to think it did not indulge too much.

She rolled it up so it was absolutely tiny and fiddled with Ilario's Itallian leather collar, trying to make it fit snugly. After a few minutes she succeeded and patted Ilario on the head. "Make sure Derek receives this, please?"

Ilario looked at her solemnly, as if he knew the gravity of the situation. Cecilia scooped him in her arms one last time. Ana would be going back to Spainne that afternoon. Almost immediately she would travel to Fraanc to deliver Ilario and other news to her brother. Racing back to Spainne, she would then greet Cecilia and her father in time for wedding preparations. Ana would be enduring a lot of travel—the wedding was in exactly a month.

"Keep yourself in good health," Cecilia said sternly to her friend as Ana prepared to depart in her carriage. "All of that traveling is hard on one's body."

Ana nodded. "I will," she said. "It will be difficult, but since I am traveling with the doctor you provided for me, I am sure that I will be in good hands."

The two girls hugged. "Thank you for all you have done," whispered Cecilia. "I will see you soon."

Ana smiled. "I'll tell Derek that you miss him," she winked and climbed into the carriage. Ilario whimpered slightly upon seeing Cecilia s the carriage door opened, and Cecilia gave him a small wave. Ana closed the door and was off.

Cecilia had never felt so alone.

0 0 0

"I feel that your daughter's idea is a good one," conceded Benvolio as Cesario and this three advisers discussed the ever-altering plans. "It _would _be easier to attack from Spainne. But it will be difficult to get the troops in without many people noticing. There are spies everywhere in Spainne, I hear."

"The troops can come in by boat," Iago said. "They can wait along the shore and no one will know if they are supplies or people. It will be easier if we attack in the dead of night, though."

"You're right," Cesario said. "We should attack when no one expects it." He grinned ferally. "Like on the night of Cecilia's wedding."

* * *

Last Edited: 4/7/09


	20. Chapter Eighteen : Part One

**Summary: **A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

0 0 0

**Chapter Eighteen: Part One**

Derek and Tristàn worked quickly, especially upon receiving Cecilia's message from Ana and Ilario. Ana had arrived the week before, fresh from both Italle and Spainne. Derek was unsurprised to see Ana, even if he did not know she was coming. That girl seemed to have gone to every country in Western Europe in the past few months. He was, however, quite shocked to see Ilario.

The large dog, no longer a puppy, burst through the carriage and bounded into Derek's arms. Behind him, he could hear Ana's laugh. "He has been waiting to see his papa," she teased.

"What?" Derek wanted to know.

"Ilario," clarified Ana, "reminds me of a child. He hated to be parted from Cecilia, could hardly be consoled by me, and yet is elated to find you. Cecilia is the mother, I the awkward aunt, and you the father."

Derek shook his head, although he was laughing. "How fares Cecilia?"

Laughter gone, Ana's face was set in a grim line. "Not well."

His chuckles ceased immediately as his head shot up to look up at his beloved's friend. "Why? What's wrong?"

"She wrote you a message," was all Ana said.

"Where is it?" Derek asked, his tone bordering on frantic.

Despite her serious face, Ana's eyes twinkled. "She would not tell me, in case something went wrong and I was captured by her father's men. That way there was nothing for them to try and beat out of me."

Derek frowned, his forehead crinkling. "I don't understand… do you think she put it in your things?"

Ana laughed. "Derek, she didn't tell me and even I know where it is."

The prince stood shock still, pondering until a yelp from Ilario snapped him out of it. Derek narrowed his eyes at the dog, trailing off, "You mean…?"

Ana's teasing chuckle was the only answer he needed as he patted Ilario down. One he heard the crinkle of paper in his collar, it was only seconds until he uncovered the paper that held Cecilia's loving, yet fearful words.

"She's getting married," whispered Derek, "to Adrian?"

Ana gulped, suddenly feeling fearful of the man for the first time since she had heard of his curse. "Yes," she said, her voice low, "on Spring solstice."

Derek pounded his fist to the floor. "Dammit," he yelled. "We don't have much time. Only three weeks."

"We can get Cecilia away," Ana said. "She and I have already worked out a plan."

"It's not just that," Derek answered, and his voice was tired. He literally seemed to sag to the floor, resting his back against a wall and tilting his head back, his eyes closed. "My birthday is on the same day as the wedding. We must be married by then."

Ana drew in a breath sharply. Looking beyond Derek, she saw her brother, standing in the doorway with Queen Marguerite. The gears in Ana's head began to work. "Then we don't have much time, do we?" She asked sharply. "We have a lot to do and not much time, Derek. We cannot sit here and sulk."

Derek's head snapped up, and he was about to growl a retort, but the look in her eyes made him stop. For a moment, Ana looked exactly like his mother.

Time passed quickly after that. The supplies from Eyerlin and Scoughtlyn came in and both Derek and Rafael quickly mobilized men. In the process, despite protests from the councilmen and his mother, Derek felt compelled to tell the men fighting for him what he was.

He gathered them together and told them all, in a low voice, the entire story of his family and the curse. "I understand," he said, his voice almost catching, "if you do not want to fight for me. If I were you, I would be skeptical as well. But," he cleared his throat. "I like to think that I have been a good ruler. I like to think that my parents and I have served you well. I ask that you do this favor for me now and fight for me. And… if you did, I would be forever grateful." He moved to leave but then came back, saying hesitantly, "if you choose to… not fight, there will be no penalty."

To his great surprise, very few soldiers deserted. Most stayed, saying that they could not ask for a better ruler and that they would do all they could to defend him and his honor. The relief Derek felt because of this was palpable and it was all he could do not to cry. It would have killed him if his people had rejected him, and the fact that they had not was an unexpected blessing.

By then, there were only ten days left until Spring solstice, the day of complete culmination.

0 0 0

Cecilia could only feel a sort of numbness as her carriage jarred its way to Spainne. She believed that this was not a reality; that she was merely in a bad dream which soon, she would be free of. Next to her, her father had dozed off, snoring innocently after the many goblets of wine he indulged in on the way there. Cecilia hadcringed. She was glad that Issy wasn't there to witness it. As protective as Cesario was of his daughters, she was glad he had not insisted that Issy come with them. She had gone into hiding for her own safety with her governess. They were living in one of the many secret chambers of the castle. Provided that the enemy attacked, the two would be safe. For that much, Cecilia was grateful, for the worry she felt for her sister was alleviated with the knowledge that she was safe. It was one less thing to worry about.

Seated across from her was Lord Adrian, who had captured her hand, smirking as he talked about the life they would lead once they were married.

"You will soon learn to love me," he assured her. "Of course, if not, then that is not my concern. But you will. I will have more power and prestige than that wolf-man of yours could ever have."

Cecilia was content to remain silent, but as it appeared he wanted some response, she sighed. "I do not understand, my lord," she said, "why you want to marry me. I can assure you now that are our union will be most unhappy. Does it give you great pleasure in knowing that your wife will love someone else, regardless of power and prestige?"

"Would it make any difference if he's dead?" Adrian remarked casually.

The princess across from him paled slightly, but shook her head. "It would not," she said. "And The Enchantress..."

"Won't bring him back to life," cut in Adrian. "Believe me, I, of all people, have experience in such matters."

Cecilia had not heard the story of his parents and thus, was intrigued by his statement. "Have you?" She inquired softly. "Did you love her very much?"

He raised an eyebrow. "It was not a lover, if that's what you are thinking," he told her smoothly, but did not manage to restrain his next words: "It was my mother."

"I'm sorry," murmured Cecilia. "That pain I can understand."

Adrian looked at her, his crystal blue eyes melting, softening a little as he studied his fiancee. "My father has raised me," he told her. "It has not been easy... he is a hard man to please."

Cecilia narrowed her eyes at this statement. "Is that why you're doing this?" She asked him. "To please your father?"

Adrian's eyes turned cold again. "I am my own man," he bit out, but Cecilia had a hard time believing him. The two did not speak the rest of the way and for that, Cecilia was grateful. With this new revelation of Lord Adrian, she had much to consider. He was not a bad person, she mused. Not by nature. It was clear that the environment in which he was raised had ultimately shaped him into the being he was today. Too bad, she thought. In another lifetime, if he had been raised differently... they might have been friends. Maybe more, if she had never met Derek.

"We are here," Adrian remarked unnecessarily as they pulled up to his estate in the town of San Sebastian. It was on the western coast of Spainne, just south west of the border of Fraanc. It was an ideal location to strike and far enough away from the Spannish capital of Barcelona without attracting much attention from King Rafael, never mind the fact that his sister was in the wedding. She had no desire to see the foreboding structure, although she had been told it was fantastic, made of the darkest stones that gleamed when the moon hit it. Her ladies-in-waiting closed in around her and she settled the heavy veil on her face so that no one's eyes could see her. As she exited the carriage she could hear her father coming to.

"If you will forgive me," Lord Adrian said, his demeanor polite and the epitome of aristocratic, "I have some business to attend to. The servants shall show you both to your rooms and I shall see you both at dinner."

King Cesario nodded and Cecilia curtseyed. She was anxious to be alone... it had been a long day.

Adrian waited until the two were out of sight, and with a few choice muttered words, disappeared. He then found himself in his father's dwellings. The Dark Mage resided under ground, suitable for the God of Death, in a mass home of tunnels and dug out rooms. The interior of them were as grand as any castle, although, in Adrian's opinion, more foreboding than any castle he had ever been to.

He found his father in an unusually good mood, reading by the fire, an astonishingly mundane activity for one so powerful. The Dark Mage greeted Adrian with almost a smile, leaving Adrian feeling light-hearted. Cecilia's words came back to him, though-- _Is that why you're doing this? To please your father?-- _but Adrian pushed them out of his mind, instead focusing on explaining the updated situation to his father.

"I will help you, of course," purred The Dark Mage to his son. "Although I must be subtle about it, for I do not wish to have your dear _aunt _caught up in this as well."

"The Enchantress has other matters to concern herself with," Adrian said, an eyebrow raised. "Why would she take time to help with a few battles?"

"She seems to be fond of the Freench," sneered The Dark Mage. "And do not forget that she aided the other side during the last war."

"Of course," Adrian said. Looking at his pocket watch, he frowned. "I have to leave, I am afraid," he bowed. "Good day, Father."

The Mage nodded. Just as his son reached the doorway he called for him.

Adrian turned.

"Watch over your fiancée," The Mage said, as he fingered a heart-shaped locket under his cloak. "Prince Derek is close by and true love does not die easily."

Adrian nodded and left. It bothered him slightly that his fiancée was in love with someone else, but he knew that when he wrote Cesario with his plans. However, Adrian had never been raised in a loving environment, so it was probably better that way. What did he know about love? And if he had it, what would he do with it? He knew the basics of his parents' courtship and he had no inclination to end up like them. He saw love as a weakness, one that left his mother dead and his father bitter. So even if there was no love in his life…well. It was better that way.

0 0 0

For Cecilia, the next few days passed by. Ana came quietly and it was the night before the wedding ritual was to begin and Cecilia was to hide away in her room, supposedly out of modesty and tradition. In reality, she was getting ready to flee.

"Derek is in a town nearby," Ana said, "so I do not think it prudent to escape immediately. I think Adrian is expecting an escape as it is. I think that it will take only half a day to reach Derek. Until then, we will plan. Let the maids see you regularly over the next few days, for I am sure they are reporting back to Adrian and your father. Lead them into a false sense of security and then escape when they least suspect it."

It was a good plan, one which Cecilia agreed to. "When they find me missing," Cecilia said, "they will go mad. We must prepare for an attack."

"It will come," Ana agreed. "I do not believe it will come until the next day, however. There will be time to prepare."

"I hope so," Cecilia said, but her brow was furrowed. There were too many loop holes in their plans, too many things that could go wrong, and there wasn't time enough to think out every aspect.

Cecilia went to her window and stared out of it. It was nightfall but she could still make out the waves crashing along the shore of San Sebastian.

She couldn't lose hope. Not yet and certainly not now.

* * *

Last Edited: 4/7/09


	21. Chapter Eighteen : Part Two

**Summary: **A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

0 0 0

**Chapter Eighteen: Part Two**

Adrian's servants escorted her straight to her chambers, as Lord Adrian had also been informed of the ritual his bride was using. He was unsurprised—he had suspected she would be reluctant, but otherwise was so engrossed in his plans of revenge that he remained unsuspicious.

Ana came the next day, her spirits high in an attempt to lift her friend's, but once Cecilia told her about her father's attack, she visibly seemed to shrink. "I can't believe it," she whispered. "That's so much…"

"What is?" Cecilia frowned. They were in her chambers, getting her trousseau and wedding dress ready.

"Cecy," she said, "that's also Derek's birthday. You two need to be married by that day."

Cecilia sat, her hands covering her face. "Oh, Ana, I feel like my life is out of my control now. There is so much that needs to be done… what if we fail?"

Ana shook her head sharply. "We won't," she said firmly. "And since there is much to be done, it is best we hurry, no?"

Cecilia looked at her and stood up wordlessly, nodding. "Let's go."

The plan itself was relatively simple. One of Cecilia's maids would pose as her, which would not be difficult, due to the fact that Cecilia would be concealed under a veil until the wedding. Ana brought her lady-in-waiting and cousin to pose as her. The two had frequently been mistaken as twins when they were younger and Ana hoped that because many people had not seen her yet at Lord Adrian's, they would not know any different if her cousin, Penelope, posed as her. Cecilia and Ana would, in turn, pretend to be maids. Under the guise of gathering items for the wedding, they would go to the market. From there, Ana instructed a simple carriage—not ornate, for it would give away them as royalty—to take them directly to Derek in Fraanc.

They were to leave the next morning and Ana and Cecilia thoroughly instructed their imposters what to do and how to act. With all luck, the men would not realize a difference until the wedding itself. By then, Cecilia and Ana would be long gone.

To Cecilia's great surprise, the plan went without a hitch or hiccup. She had not expected to be so lucky. The two girls slipped past the guards easily, telling them that Princess Cecilia demanded such-and-such for her bridal day. Luckily for the guards, they failed to notice the large satchels the girls carried with them or the fact that they never saw their faces. It seemed that it was infinitely easier to leave the castle than enter it.

The carriage met them at the end of the village, after they purchased various fruits and breads for their journey and the girls, after looking for prying eyes, quickly entered and the carriage was off.

0 0 0

Lord Adrian grinned to himself as he and Cesario toasted their good health and victory the night before the wedding. He was almost in awe that his plans were going so well. Tomorrow, he would wed Cecilia, a beautiful, if not stubborn, maiden. In good time, she would forget about Derek. _After all, _he thought to himself, _nothing lasts forever, not even true love. _

"My good man," began Lord Adrian, for he had a surprise for his ally, "I have someone I would like to introduce to you. He will be an invaluable resource in the upcoming battle, I am sure."

Cesario perked up. "By all means," he said, with a wave of his noble hand, "let us meet such an ally."

Adrian smirked and opened the door. "King Cesario of Italle," he said graciously, "may I introduce my father," a black cape swept over his shoulder, his eyes icy and blue, the darkly handsome man walked into to the room, "the Dark Mage?"

0 0 0

Derek put his head in his hands. "I can't believe I let time slip away from me like this," he moaned. "How can it be the day before my birthday?"

Marguerite sighed miserably, feeling the urge to cry. She could hardly stand to see her son so forlorn and miserable.

"There's not much I can do now," Derek said bitterly. "Cecilia is hundreds of miles away and I have no plan, no resources, no nothing." He looked at his mother. "Rafe is still here, correct?"

Marguerite smiled at her son's forgetfulness. "Yes, dear. You saw him at dinner, remember?"

Derek sighed, giving himself a self-deprecating smile. "True." His eyes turned somber again. "May I… may I have some time alone, Mother? I just… I just need to think."

Giving her son a kiss on the head, Marguerite murmured, "Of course," and left the room. Closing the door behind her, she ran into someone. "Pardon me," she exclaimed.

"Oh, no," said the voice, and she could hear the humor in it, "pardon _me_. I was so excited to reach my destination that I did not see where I was going."

Marguerite gasped. "Does he know?"

"I am on my way to see him now," returned the voice. "So if you will excuse me, my dear Queen Marguerite?"

The two embraced, Marguerite laughing through her tears of joy, and let the other woman enter.

Derek, his head still in his hands, said tiredly, "Mother, please. Just… a few more minutes. Please?"

Two warm arms wrapped around him and he stiffened. "Are you sure you don't want some company?" asked a frighteningly familiar voice, her tone conversational and domestic. "I worry about you, darling. Have you been working too hard again?"

"Cecily?" Croaked Derek, turning around, and seeing that his True One was not a figment of imagination, he leapt out of his chair and, taking her into his arms, spun her around, laughing. "I can't believe this! How did you… what?"

Cecilia laughed, kissing him impulsively. "Ana and I escaped! I figured that you had enough to worry about here, so I thought that I might as well come to you."

"Clever girl," he said, holding her in his arms, looking appreciatively on his love. "Oh, Cecily, I missed you." He bent his head down, kissing her properly. She released a small, content sigh, and wrapped her arms around his neck, relishing in the feel of him, the security she felt in his arms.

They broke the kiss. "I missed you, too," she said, reluctantly stepping out of his arms. Holding out her hand, she said, "And I have one last surprise for you. So if you'll come with me?"

He took her hand without hesitation. He would go to the end of the world with her.

0 0 0

The morning of Spring solstice dawned bright and clear. Cesario straightened his clothes, humming a merry tune. Oh, victory would be sweet. His eldest daughter married to a respectable and _human _man, his enemy vanquished and heartbroken, and overall, victorious. The troops had been dispatched that morning and in a matter of hours would be marching onto Freench soil.

A small voice whispered in his mind that perhaps he was making a mistake. The only thing he was doing was alienating his daughter and heir, destroying an entire kingdom, and losing was inevitable.

But Cesario brushed it away as he adjusted his boots. A small trickle of a frown, however, lingered.

He walked towards the small chapel that Adrian had in his home. Adrian's father, the Dark Mage (Cesario shuddered. He wasn't so sure what he thought about _that_,) and Adrian were already there. Cecilia and Ana weren't down yet. Where were those two?

The imposters were giggling away up in Cecilia's rooms as they spun in their finery. Grace, Cecilia's maid, spun around in the shimmering white silk gown. Cecilia herself cared not a whit about the dress—what was the point, when she would be wearing it for a man she hated?—and let the seamstress put as many frills and bows on it as she desired. The end result left Grace looking as extravagant as one could imagine. Taffeta, satin, and tulle adorned the once simple silk dress. Cecilia abhorred it but Grace, not used to such finery, adored it. Her veil was long and somewhat sheer, the ends outlined in satin bows. Penelope, Ana's imposter, wore a much more simple dress in dark blue, and had a matching veil as well. The two girls were looking forward to their roles, unconcerned with the danger. It was all so thrilling and exciting, participating in an epic, romantic plot of forbidden love.

Those thoughts in their head, the two girls went down to the chapel. Stopping at the door, their giggles ceased and they became solemn. How long would it take for no one to know?

Penelope walked down the aisle first with a random best man of Adrian's. Taking her place at the end, she glanced at Adrian. He was quite handsome, she thought, but something in his eyes wasn't quite right. She shivered.

Grace took Cesario's arm and came down next. She felt uneasy. She felt for the first time that perhaps she was betraying her liege. But, technically, she obeyed Cecilia, as Cesario had first instructed her when she first became Cecilia's lady-in-waiting.

Once everyone was settled, the priest began and soon came the time when Adrian went to lift Grace's veil.

The moment he saw her face, he let out a horrendous yell. "Cesario!" He demanded. "What in the hell is this?"

Cesario frowned and grabbed Grace roughly by the shoulder. She cried out and once he saw it wasn't his daughter, he promptly slapped Grace, who spun to the ground. "Where is my daughter?" He thundered.

Grace, feeling as bold as her mistress, shot the man a venomous glare. "Far away from you," she spat. "She is Frannc, with her _true _love, Derek."

Cesario rounded on Penelope. "Is this true, princess?"

Tearing off her veil, Penelope gave a smirk. "It certainly is. And I am no princess."

"Both of them!" yelled Adrian with a strangled growl. "Gone!"

His father, who had stood silent the entire time, now spoke. "Do not worry, my son," he said, an evil smirk curling about his lips. "We shall get her back." Grabbing his son by his robes, the two disappeared in a shock of black smoke.

Cesario's color drained. "Oh my god," he whispered. "The troops are heading straight for her. CALL OFF THE ATTACK!" he began to yell as he sprinted from the room. "Call it off! My daughter is there!"

Iago stopped him. "It is too late, my liege," he said. "They are already in Fraanc."

"No," whispered Cesario, seemingly oblivious to the tear running down his cheek.

In a moment, the tear was gone, and Cesario's face hardened. "I need some help," he muttered and sprinted off to find a stolen, little book.

0 0 0

Miles away, Cesario and Adrian's troops reached Pareis. Derek and Tristàn's troops stood strong outside, waiting. Tristàn felt sick.

"Some of those men will be fighting their comrades," he muttered, his heart breaking for his people. "It is like a civil war."

Cecilia laid a comforting hand on Tristàn's shoulder. "I have heard that most of his troops come from imported Russhans, on his mother's side," she told him. "The only ones loyal to Adrian are ones who have obviously betrayed you, dear friend. With all good luck, the battle and the war will be over tonight."

Seeing his friend's hopeful face, Tristàn did not have the will to refuse her. "Perhaps you are right," was all he said.

Tristàn left then, giving his sister a tight hug, as he went to join Derek outside. Nervous, Ana, Cecilia, and Marguerite were to be kept safely cocooned inside, snaking through secret passageways and tunnels to remain safe and hidden.

Fate, however, had different ideas. "Well, my little princess," said a deep, darkly seductive voice. "You thought you could hide forever, did you?"

Whirling around, the three women gasped in horror. Standing before them were Adrian, and his father, the Dark Mage.

"_Ay dios mio_," whispered Ana. She knew who this was.

Cecilia swallowed. "What do you want?"

"Isn't the answer simple, darling?" Adrian asked rhetorically, slowing pacing around the room as a jaguar would its prey. His father stood completely still, his hands clasped behind his back, his stance wide and regal. "You. You have caused me a great deal of humiliation and consternation these past few months, but there is something about you, _mi amor_, something that draws me to you. Is it your indescribable beauty?" he looked at his father, who made a sudden motion and Cecilia was swept across the room, her arm in the tight grasp of both Adrian and his father. "Or is it simply your bargaining value?"

Cecilia began to struggle but to no avail.

Adrian shrugged. "To your credit, I'm going to have to say both." In a blink of an eye, the two men and Cecilia were gone.

Marguerite clamped a hand to her mouth in attempt to keep the tears and bile at bay. Would tragedy ever let her family go free?

The next time Cecilia blinked, she was free floating, at least fifty meters in the air. The battle had just commenced, she realized, but she found the Dark Mage (the Dark Mage!) next to her bellow, "HALT!"

Despite the sea of silver armor that assaulted her vision, Cecilia immediately spotted Derek, who was riding high on his horse, a dark blue cape strapped about his shoulders. His sword was out, slashing through the enemy. At the Mage's bellow, he stopped.

She knew the moment Derek spotted her. The raw fear she felt emanating from him scared her.

"Derek of Fraanc," boomed the Dark Mage.

Cecilia winced.

"Your family has ruined the lives and futures of those whom I hold dear. I think that it is only fair that I take the future of one whom _you _hold dear. Of course…" here his oily smile returned, "I am willing to negotiate."

Derek growled, though his body was still and tense as he deliberated silently. Finally, "Name your price," shouted Derek hoarsely, his heart pounding. Ilario, by his side, snarled menacingly up at the evil duo. On his part, Derek could not believe that he had been so naïve as to think that his troubles were nearly over, that his reunion with Cecilia would pave the way to better things. He was wrong.

The Mage's smile grew. "Your life," he spat out.

As Derek opened his mouth to answer, it seemed as if the sun exploded, for a huge ray of light beamed upon the people, and with a splash of stardust, the Enchantress appeared, floating above the ground and looking dangerously at the Dark Mage.

* * *

Last Edited: 6/29/10


	22. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary: **A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

0 0 0

**Chapter Nineteen**

"Sister, dear," snarled The Dark Mage, his eyes lighting up wonderfully, "I was wondering when you would show up. It's not the same without you."

The Enchantress frowned disgustedly. "It seems you have not changed at all, have you, Brother, darling?"

"And change the game?" The Dark Mage laughed. "Never."

"Let Cecilia go, Brother," The Enchantress said quietly. "I think we both know that the real battle is between you and me."

"I am curious," The Mage said, "how did you come to be here? I know that usually you make a point not to specifically meddle in human events." His tone and look were meaningful.

"You are right," The Enchantress said. "Usually I don't. But since my darling nephew was involved," a quick flash of warmth was directed to said nephew, "I knew that you would not be far behind. And besides," she said, her gaze going to a small figure on the ground, "I was informed by Cecilia's father, who summoned me."

Derek's eyes, so transfixed on Cecilia, finally looked away and found her father, standing, he realized dazedly, on the side of the Freench, towards the back of the cavalry. In his hands was the book that Keleigh had stolen from Derek, the one containing all of the information on the Curse and the Enchantress's role in it.

"Traitor," snarled Adrian at Cesario, who straightened his back.

"I am loyal to only two things," he responded, and Cecilia was startled at how he acted remarkably like his old self, "my country and my family. If anything, it is _you _and your father who have betrayed me."

"Silence, mortal," hissed the Dark Mage, making a move for Cesario, but was blocked by the Enchantress.

"Think, Brother," she warned him. "It is not worth it to harm Cecilia. You forget that you too have a weakness."

"And what is that?" He taunted.

The Enchantress flicked her wrist, and Adrian, who had been on the ground below, shot up to her grasp. "This."

The Mage paused, his dark eyes livid, but both he and the Enchantress knew that he would concede. Adrian was, after all, his only link to his past wife.

His hand left Cecilia's arm and she was shocked to find herself not plummeting towards the ground. The Enchantress did the same to Adrian, who looked stunned to be there. The two were lowered to the ground, simultaneously, as the frozen figures watched, in awe. Only Cesario moved, pushing his way towards the front to be with his daughter.

Once the two were on the ground, however, the Dark Mage grinned. "Of course," he said mockingly, "when have I ever played fair?" Magic sprung from his fingers as he a powerful spell hurled down towards Cecilia.

"No," yelled Derek as he hurtled off his horse and took of at a sprint, trying desperately to reach Cecilia.

But he was too late. Cesario reached her first, shoving his eldest out of the way, and the spell, deadly accurate, killed him in an instant.

Derek reached the fallen girl and gathered her up in his arms. After recovering from the shock, she began to struggle against him, wanting to go to her father. "Let me go, Derek—_let me go_!" she sobbed, trying to twist out of his arms.

"No," he said firmly, though pained by her suffering. "I can't let you go out in the open now. He might try and kill you again."

Though he needn't have worried; the Enchantress, her infamous temper boiling over, sent a flash of light towards the Dark Mage. It struck him directly in his left shoulder and caused his clothes to begin to smolder and smoke.

Caught unawares, he howled in agony. "You shouldn't have done that," he hissed at her ominously. He was still a moment and then went on a rampage, firing bolt after bolt of energy. In his rage and due to his bad arm, his aim was faulty and the Enchantress was able to dodge every one, albeit sometimes barely.

The Enchantress sent a steady tidal wave of power back at him but his shielding abilities were superb. A pane of dark energy projected in front of him and when her light beams hit them, they were swallowed whole by the darkness. However, by the end of her barrage, the Mage was clearly weakened. But he wasn't defeated yet and judging by the mad glint in his eye, his next attack would be his last—and finest.

Sensing his counterattack, the Enchantress braced herself, readying her defense powers.

"Trying to prepare yourself, sister dear?" He cupped his hands together and opened them, revealing an incredibly large swirl of dark energy. "You may try, but your powers are no match for mine."

The Mage thrust it at her and she brought forth her shield, where light released and cocooned around her like a panel of glass. The energy clawed at the shield but it held firm, despite a few moments of struggle. With a strong push, the energy bounced off the shield and hurled back towards the Dark Mage.

Despite her impressive defense, he Enchantress's eyes widened with fear as she saw what—or who—was near the Dark Mage.

Adrian, using all of his powers to levitate himself, was several feet below his father, trying to propel himself to his father's side to try and take down his aunt. His eyes were wide as well, for he knew what was inevitably to come.

The Dark Mage's own energy hit him square in the chest, causing him to be obliterated instantly, his body incinerated into millions of pieces, exploding through the sky.

The impact reamed Adrian, propelling him into the ground, where his neck broke. He was killed instantly.

There was a long moment of silence. Stunned at the display of magic they witnessed, the men and their horses stood shock still in awe. Finally, one soldier broke the silence and the troops began to rejoice, but the Enchantress looked forlorn as she floated, silently, to her nephew. Derek released Cecilia, as she ran to her father, who, despite his ways, had still given the ultimate sacrifice: his life for his daughter.

Derek saw the Enchantress. Leaving his beloved to grieve in peace, he went to the Enchantress and knelt down beside Adrian. "You could bring him back to life, you know," he told her, softly.

The Enchantress shook her head. "It wouldn't be fair," she said. She looked over at Cecilia. She was instructing four men to carry her father's body. It was placed in a carriage and took off for Italle, where it would be buried in the family tomb. "How fair would it be if I brought Adrian back to life and not Cesario?"

Derek was silent for a moment. "You're right," he said. "But I don't know… I think that for everything you've done for us, you deserve to be a little selfish, a little happy." He looked over at Adrian. "And even though I have no reason to at all, I think that he deserves a second chance. From what Cecilia's told me, he's had a rough time of it. You know? If there's anything I've learned in my life, it's that I think I everyone deserves a second chance."

The Enchantress smiled at him. "You are a good man, Derek of Fraanc," she told him.

"Don't I know it," came a new voice, as Cecilia attached herself to Derek's arm.

He gave her a sympathetic look.

"I'll be all right," she told him, although her eyes were melancholy and rimmed with grief and tears. She looked at the Enchantress. "I think you should bring Adrian back to life," she said. "He deserves it."

"If I did," she said, "I would give him a completely new life. A new name. So he wouldn't have to remember all of this."

"Good plan," said Cecilia.

The pair left the grieving aunt. They dismissed the troops, both theirs and Adrian's, saying to meet at their respective camps for payment and food. They found Tristàn then, who helped them take Cesario's body. From there they journeyed back to Pareis, where it all began.

Upon their arrival, Ana and Marguerite burst into tears when they saw them alive and unharmed. Recounting their tales, the women grew solemn at the mention of Cesario.

At dinner the night after, they had a toast to Cesario and his life. The next day Cecilia would leave for Italle, to fetch her sister and prepare her father's burial—and her own coronation ceremony as queen.

Marguerite was unusually quiet and Derek frowned. "Mother?" He said. "Is something wrong?"

She wiped away a few stray tears. "I'm so happy that you're alive," she said, her eyes glistening, "but—you'll be stuck with the Curse still for the rest of your life! And although you have Cecilia it's just—it's just… We were so close to succeeding."

Derek grinned. "But we did succeed," he told her. "Have you not seen Cecilia's hand?"

Cecilia held up her left hand. There, sparkling, winking in the light, was a gold ring, with a round diamond in the center and two rose-colored rubies bordering it.

"Does that mean…?" Marguerite blinked.

"We are already married," laughed Cecilia. "When I came to Derek the night before his birthday, I had summoned the Enchantress as well. We were married that very night."

"The ceremony was only for the three of us," Derek told Marguerite quietly. "And we did not have time to tell you."

Marguerite looked at Ana and Tristàn. "You two knew?" She shrieked. "And didn't tell me?"

The siblings flushed sheepishly. "We thought you knew," Ana snickered.

"Well I—" Marguerite stopped. "I suppose it doesn't matter now," she cleared her throat, returning to her usual decorum. "You do realize that I will plan a proper ceremony soon though, don't you?"

Derek sighed, squeezing Cecilia's hand. Another dratted ball to attend.

Everyone turned in early, for although their spirits were high, it did not feel right to be so celebratory, especially in remembrance of the recently dead. Cecilia would leave for Italle in the morning to settle all of the affairs, including her father's burial, and to be there with her sister. She sat at a desk, writing out all of the things she needed to do. A warm hand plucked the quill from her fingers and settled on her shoulders. "Come, my love," Derek whispered into her ear. "There will be time enough for that. Let us just enjoy this time that we have together tonight." He would be staying behind in Fraanc for another week before joining Cecilia in Italle. He was needed there to rebuild the damage the brief skirmish had produced.

Cecilia went to the balcony and Derek followed. In their new chambers, they savored their time together, finally. The newlyweds stayed outside for a long time, thinking and talking lowly to each other.

"Who would have ever thought," Cecilia murmured, "when I first arrived here, that I would be your True One?"

Derek looked at her softly. He had never felt so content, so at peace before. The ceremony the Enchantress performed was painless, surprisingly, and he felt like he was being reborn in a way. And despite the pain he and his relatives suffered, Derek found himself not caring. It did, after all, lead him to Cecilia. He smiled at his wife, saying, "Well, out of all the girls in the world, I'm glad that it was you."

Cecilia gave him a bright smile, feeling so loved and cherished. She tilted her face up and, catching her meaning, he lowered his own for a kiss. It was hard to believe that a year ago, she had never met Derek. Her life had always been mapped out for her and blindly, she believed that plan, believed that she would be a spinster queen whose only love was her country.

Breaking the kiss, Cecilia laid her head on Derek's shoulder. She knew better now. By his side was where she was meant to be.

_The End_

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**Notes: **(Wipes away a tear) It's finally over! It only took three years... When I first wrote this story I never imagined what it would turn into and what a great response it would get. _Thank you thank you thank you _to everyone who has reviewed and read and nagged at me to finish this story. Despite the long months of waiting and not writing, I'm glad that I stuck with it.

And…

There is a sequel.

You know. If you really want it.

While this story is more focused on plot, the sequel (set in the future) is going to be more of a character piece. However, a good plot will not be compromised. And here's a summary…

The One Who Knows: The youngest daughter of the legendary "Cinderella," Eliana, or Elia, has a life that is anything but a fairy tale. Lonely but lovely, she knows that she is an unwanted and unnecessary addition to a household that already has one daughter and one son—a child to marry off and the other to inherit the throne. When a dashing foreign prince, the son of the equally famous King Derek and Queen Cecilia, comes to win the hand of her sister, Elia garners more hatred from her family when instead, the prince finds himself falling in love with _her_…


	23. Author's Note: Please Read!

**Author's Note: **So I'm reposting this to let everyone know that the sequel to "Of All the Girls In the World" is now up! Please take a look at it and tell me what you think!

And for being wonderful, here's a summary/preview:

_The One Who Knows_

The youngest daughter of the legendary "Cinderella," Eliana, or Elia, has a life that is anything but a fairy tale. Lonely but lovely, she knows that she is an unwanted and unnecessary addition to a household that already has one daughter and one son—a child to marry off and the other to inherit the throne. When a dashing foreign prince, the son of the equally famous King Derek and Queen Cecilia, comes to win the hand of her sister, Elia garners more hatred from her family when instead, the prince finds himself falling in love with _her_…

Link to the story: www. fanfiction .net/s/6155594/1/The_One_Who_Knows

(take out the spaces)

Thanks everyone!  
M. Elena

18 July 2010


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